


intimate encounters of the third kind

by alexmanes



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: AU where Rosa is alive and (most) humans are okay with their new alien roommates, Attempted Murder, Future Revelations, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Minor Character Death, Secret Identities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2019-10-20 08:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexmanes/pseuds/alexmanes
Summary: Three years after Antar and its people take Earth under their wings, Roswell becomes the epicenter for human-alien relations between both planets. It doesn't take very long for Alex Manes to find himself embroiled in a scandal that threatens this intergalactic partnership, all thanks to a beautiful man named Michael Guerin who is not nearly as human as he claims to be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get this show on the road, let me throw out some facts! This fic combines lore from the original Roswell show (in regards to Antar, it's people, etc.) and mixes it with what we currently know of Roswell, New Mexico plus some of my own personal headcanons. In this AU, Rosa never died, no one is out hunting for aliens (fuck you, Jesse Manes), and most of the world has gotten used to having Antarians peacefully living among them. Of course, people like Jesse Manes (choke and die, old man) are completely opposed to suddenly sharing their hometown with the Antarians, especially now that King Zan/Max has made it a central meeting point for Antarians everywhere. Unfortunately, Alex and Michael find themselves caught in the middle, though this isn't the first time they've been stuck in the crossfire.

Compared to the rest of Roswell, Alex is pretty content with Earth’s new alien overlords.

Actually, maybe ‘overlords’ is an exaggeration. Probably isn’t fair for Alex to throw that term around so flippantly, either. The Antarians have insisted time and time again that they aren’t going to enforce their own cultural and societal norms on humans. There are far too many subcultures spread across Earth’s seven continents — and the Antarians don’t see why there has to be _seven_ separate land masses — for them to tend to. Of course, that hasn’t stopped Antarians from making themselves right at home. Now they grace televisions, theater screens, radios, and other culturally significant mediums, much to the delight of _most_ humans.

Alex feels this is an important distinction to note, because places like Roswell are still hesitant to welcome their alien brethren with open arms. He’s well aware of how his father feels, given the fact Jesse Manes and his three eldest sons spend most dinners ranting about Earth’s unwelcome guests. They’ve spent every night for the past three years venting their frustrations, but it’s only been about a year since King Zan announced Roswell would house Earth’s very first Antarian Embassy. Three weeks since construction finally finished. Roswell was transformed from a run-down, middle-of-nowhere desert city to a hub of enlightenment for humans and aliens alike.

That’s why Alex quickly became content with the Antarians. Rather than feeling stuck in his narrow-minded hometown with nowhere to go, Alex senses that this is just the beginning of a bigger and better chapter in his life. This is a massive deal for the whole town, but locals are still set in their ways. Decades of anti-alien propaganda tend to do that to people, Alex realizes, and it’ll take more than a few years of peaceful talks for Roswell denizens to conform to the rapid change.

“I, for one, embrace our new alien buddies,” Maria proudly announces, confirming Alex’s innermost thoughts and earning a delighted laugh from Liz. The three had gotten together for some much needed catching up at the Wild Pony, which was allowed to keep its _vintage_ and _historical_ look for the sake of educating Antarians. Alex approves of the decision, mostly because it’s one less thing his father has any right to complain about.

“I mean, have you seen what they’ve done to this place?” Maria continues, gesturing around their small booth. “And I’m not talking about the bar, obviously. This town’s actually something to be proud of now, y’know?”

“Too bad _some_ people don’t see it that way,” Liz says, purposely raising her voice. Her gaze drifts toward Wyatt Long and his posse of tools behaving obnoxiously at the bar. “Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that Roswell’s stuck in the past while the rest of the world’s moving forward.”

“Makes you wonder what the Antarians even see in this place,” Alex muses. “Pretty sure they’d get a warmer welcome somewhere else. Why pick Roswell?”

“Careful, Alex,” Maria teases. “Pretty soon you’ll start sounding like your dad.”

“How is he, by the way?” Liz asks. “I can’t imagine he’s had a change of heart since they…”

“Since they cut back on the armed forces?” Alex finishes. “Yeah, he’s been living in his own self-induced hell for the past few months. Not a pretty sight.”

When the U.S. government was strongly encouraged to reduce spending on their military, they decided to lay off nearly half of every branch. All five Manes men were promptly sent back to Roswell with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and the medals they’d earned. Sure, they were offered jobs at the brand new Antarian embassy, but Alex was the only one in his family to actually consider. And truth be told? It was an offer too good to resist, so he didn’t.

“I take it you haven’t mentioned the job yet?” Maria sighs, knowing all too well that Alex has, in fact, failed to inform his father. “ _Alex_.”

“I know, I know,” he rushes to explain. “I get it, I have to tell him eventually, but he still blames the Antarians for losing his job. If he found out I was joining their king’s security detail? I’m pretty sure we’d have a huge argument I’m not about to deal with.”

“But didn’t they offer him the same job?” Liz asks.

“They did,” Maria quips, “but he decided to turn it down.”

“My brothers did too,” Alex adds. “Pretty sure my whole family thinks I did the same. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Until word starts spreading,” Maria chides. “We all know how quick gossip travels. It’ll only be a matter of time before someone tells your dad.”

On the surface, Alex knows Maria’s right. She comes from a good place, wanting nothing but the best for her old friend. However, he knows that telling his father won’t be nearly as easy nor as rewarding. Without a job, Alex is stuck living with his parents and three older brothers, all shoehorned into their old bedroom with two bunk beds and absolutely no personal space. If there’s a job that can get him out of there, then necessary sacrifices need to be made. Surely Jesse Manes doesn’t need to know until Alex is out of his house and living on his own.

“I’ll think about telling him,” Alex reassures. “I can’t make any promises, but we’ll see how my first day goes. If I plan on keeping the job, then I’ll break the news.”

“ _If_?” Liz echoes, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not completely sold on it yet?”

“I’m keeping my options open,” Alex replies. “Even if my only two options are working security for aliens or picking up shifts at the Crashdown Cafe.”

“Hey!” Liz smacks his shoulder, eliciting a snort out of Alex. “I’ll have you know that the Crashdown Cafe is the hottest spot in town right now. We’ve gotten more business the past two weeks than we have the last six months _combined_.”

“Impressive,” Maria quips. “Looks like option two is pretty viable, Alex.”

“Only if option one falls through,” he points out. “I doubt it, though. How bad can my first day be, right?”

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, the first day can be _pretty_ bad. To the point where Alex legitimately considers making an immediate beeline for the Crashdown Cafe more than once, but is reminded that he's locked inside a safe room with two aliens, Kyle Valenti, Jenna Cameron, and one total (but apparently human) stranger named Michael Guerin.

At first, Alex assumes he'll be getting a brief rundown of his role on King Zan's security detail, only to find out that he hasn't actually been brought there for a simple security gig. It goes far beyond that, which each one of the humans comes to find out. There are just four of them in attendance, and now that he thinks about it, Alex wonders if maybe that was their plan all along. Maybe somehow, some way, King Zan knew how to weed out every other potential recruit until these four very specific humans were left. Of course, that's something to be considered when and only when they all get permission to leave the godforsaken safe room, or at least contact the outside world. 

“I’m with Alex on this one,” Kyle says. They’re about seven hours into their debriefing and Alex is trying to convince King Zan — or _Max Evans_ , as he insists on being called — to let the humans in attendance use their phones. “If you want your plan to work, then we’ll need to make sure no one comes looking for us. I’m pretty sure Alex’s father would turn this entire embassy upside down if he thought something happened to his son.”

Truth be told, Alex is pretty sure his father would only use his disappearance as an _excuse_ to tear apart some Antarian property. It’d be more about sticking it to the aliens than actually finding his son in one piece. Still, it’s the thought that counts.

“No one can know why you’re here,” snaps Isobel — _not_ Vilandra, Alex reminds himself. “If we let you contact your families, we risk blowing our covers.”

“With all due respect,” Jenna begins, not looking the least bit sincere, “what’s the big deal about this little operation of yours anyway? All you’re doing is blending in with the humans and studying our behavior.”

Max and Isobel exchange a brief but fervent glance, clearly aware of something Alex nor the others aren’t. It’s been like this the past seven hours. The two Antarian royals relaying information to the humans now part of their entourage, but only just enough to assure them of their role. Kyle’s tasked with being Max and Isobel’s personal doctor, Alex and Jenna are there to serve as their bodyguards, and Michael...well, Alex doesn’t really know why he’s here. Michael supposedly hails from Tennessee, yet lacks the accent and hospitable attitude the South is known for.  But the point is, even Michael seems suspicious of everything going on.

“It’s important that we understand human culture of _this_ city specifically,” Isobel explains, looking as frustrated as Alex feels. “As the ruling family on Antar, it’s up to my brother and I to maintain peace between both planets. The only way to do that—”

“Is to see how we can convince the local humans to trust us,” Max continues. “To do that, we need to observe them on their own level. In their communities, out in public, maybe even in their homes. We can’t do that unless we have a few humans helping us.”

There’s something about this that Alex doesn’t trust, but as the hours wane on, his ironclad nerve wavers. Three or four hours ago, he’d gladly turn them down. Now? Well, the pay’s looking more and more enticing, as are the benefits. New housing in Roswell _and_ potential visits to Antar? It’s almost too good to be true, which is why he’s been so hesitant up until now. Only a handful of humans have been to Antar and back, such as the wealthy elite and world leaders. It’s said to be leagues better than Earth, and Alex would be lying if he said he didn’t want a glimpse of an otherworldly paradise.

“I don’t see the problem,” comes a voice from Alex’s right. Michael's only spoke up a few times, and each instance was just to argue with Alex. Safe to say, he isn't Alex's favorite person right now. “We’re getting paid, we get to live on a big-ass ranch, and all we gotta do is babysit some Antarians. How's that so bad?"

No one can argue with that logic, least of all Alex, but he opens his mouth anyway. If only to spite Michael, who has become one of _many_ reasons why Alex is on edge, inching closer and closer to his breaking point.

“I don’t like being left in the dark,” Alex says. “If I’m going to agree to this, then I need to know this isn’t going to blow up in my face down the line all because you two—” He pauses, gesturing toward Max and Isobel “—wanted to keep a few secrets."

“No one’s keeping you here,” Michael counters, flashing Alex a mocking grin. “I’m sure if you pitched a big enough tantrum, you’d get escorted out by a couple Antarian guards and be on your way. Back to your normal, boring, _uneventful_ life.”

Before Alex’s anger has enough time to kick in, Max is quick to interject with, “ _No one_ is leaving until we square everything away. Got it, Guerin?”

“Crystal clear, your Highness,” Michael mutters, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look too happy, which leaves Alex with a twinge of satisfaction and a growing smile. However, he quickly lets it vanish when Michael's heated gaze meets his own. 

“You have to trust us,” Isobel carries on, purposely ignoring Michael’s outburst. It gives Alex an excuse to look away from Michael and toward the princess. “I understand that we’re asking a lot of you. You’ll have to lie to your loved ones, relocate to an undisclosed location, and devote the next two years to complete strangers.”

“But it’s important that we have a strong team,” Max adds, "and we chose each of you for a reason. A decorated sergeant, a brilliant doctor, a scientific genius, and a seasoned sheriff. If one of you doesn't commit, our entire plan is doomed to fail. And this is bigger than any of us. It's going to determine how both of our planets move forward with one another. There's a reason why we can't reveal all of the details yet. It's for your own good."

"Why do you think we've had to lock ourselves in a safe room?" Max continues, gesturing to their cramped surroundings. Despite the comfortable furnishings and warm lighting, there's something ominous about the small room. Being cooped up here for seven hours hasn't been ideal, at least by Alex's standard. "We're putting more faith and trust in you four than we've ever put in some of our own people, because we know you're the best at what you do. We _know_  you can be trusted. Take a leap of faith and trust _us_ in return."

When Max finishes, the room falls silent. Alex can tell everyone is thinking to themselves, mulling over their options. For Alex, the lack of communication is a major pitfall, but the promise of a stable home away from his father is almost enough to make up for it. He may be a grown man, but it feels as if he'll never truly break from his father's influence. If he continues living under his father's rule of thumb, he may just snap. And given the fact he doesn't share the same anti-Antarian sentiments as the rest of the Manes family, he figures this might be the perfect act of revenge towards his father. One last act of rebellion while he still has the courage to follow through. 

"I'm in," Jenna eventually says, officially the first to take on the job. 

Letting out a deep sigh, Kyle isn't too far behind. "Alright, but don't make me regret this."

"You already know my answer," Michael tosses out. His eyes catch Alex's, and he has the gall to hold his gaze. "Three's a crowd, but four's a party. Right, Manes?"

There's something unsettling about the intensity in Michael's eyes, but Alex doesn't waver as he keeps his locked onto Michael's. 

"Fine," Alex finally agrees, not once tearing his gaze from Michael. "Count me in too."

And in that moment, their fates — and those of both planets — intertwine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, feel free to leave a comment, gimme some kudos, or privately hug your phone/computer close to your chest and whisper, "Thank you." I promise I'll hear your kind words, sense your gratitude, and smile to myself. You can also find me at my Roswell-exclusive blog, [alexmanes](http://alexmanes.tumblr.com/), if you'd like to talk!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I never thought I could finish this baby in five chapters. I just put five as a starting point, but at this rate? I think I might actually finish in five if every chapter is as long as this one. Apologies in advance for how much you have to sit through, because I...got carried away with all the plot building. Promise you'll have A LOT of Malex moments next chapter. Like, too many to even mention.

It’s a quarter past seven when Alex finally gets a breath of fresh air, stepping out a side door of the Antarian Embassy. Jenna had given him a curious expression when he split off from the group, but said nothing. It isn’t her place to pry into a coworker’s business; not until they’re all stuck living under the same roof. Kyle hadn’t even flinched, knowing all too well why Alex can’t be seen coming and going. Maria was right when she said people talk. It won’t take long for rumors to fly and Jesse Manes to realize what his son’s getting up to. Better he heart it straight from Alex than a town gossip.

It’s closer to eight when he makes it home. Just in time for dinner, too. That means his day-long absence will become an inevitable point of conversation, especially if his brothers are around. Years spent abiding by their father’s strict code of conduct means they’re all too quick to turn on one another. Even Alex is ashamed to admit he’s done this on more than one occasion. It’s easier to deflect onto one of his brothers than give his father reason to analyze and critique his own behavior.

The smell of pot roast, mashed potatoes, and fresh bread wafts through the foyer and provides a moment of comfort. It takes Alex back to much simpler times — back when his mother was still alive and breathing life into the Manes home. It’d been one of her signature dishes, mostly because it happened to be her husband’s favorite. When this meal was being served, a younger, much happier Alex knew it was going to be a good night for the Manes family. Much like those memories, however, the comfort is fleeting. It doesn’t take long for his father’s voice drift from the kitchen and bring him back to reality.

“Nice of you to join me,” calls Jesse, drawing a quiet sigh from Alex. Judging by the tone in his voice, he isn’t too happy with his youngest boy. “I was beginning to think _all_ of my sons were too busy to share a meal with their father.”

When Alex enters the kitchen, a twinge of guilt courses through his chest. There his father sits, completely and utterly alone in a dimly lit kitchen at an otherwise empty table. All while a perfectly good meal quickly grows cold on the stove. This strips Alex of any confidence he once had, giving way to even more guilt. It seeps through every crack of Alex’s reserve, threatening to swallow him whole.  For all of Jesse’s faults, Alex realizes, they’re still bonded by blood.

Leaving Jesse to finish the meal alone would not only be disrespectful, but arouse suspicions. No longer is Alex eager to throw his new job in his father’s face. As a matter of fact, it’s at this moment that he comes to understand that doing so could potentially crush his father. Having just lost his job for the past thirty years thanks to the Antarians, only to have his son agree to protect their ruler? Well, not even Alex is cruel enough to knock the man while he’s down. Even if Jesse wouldn’t hesitate to do so to Alex, given the chance.

“Sorry,” Alex finally apologizes. Rather than face his father directly, he chooses to pick up a plate and get his fill. If he purposely takes his time serving himself, it’s not obvious. “I was out job hunting today and lost track of time. Found one, though.”

“Oh?” Jesse inquires, staring curiously at his son. “Hm. I’m surprised you found something before your brothers. Very impressive. Care to elaborate on this little job of yours?”

Alex senses a backhanded compliment in his father’s words, but the praise outweighs the insult that lurks between the lines. A bone-deep satisfaction settles within Alex, as it usually does with every tiny sense of approval to come from Jesse. He’s a grown man in his own right, yet still starves for any indication of his father’s love. Rather than plain-spoken ‘I love you’s exchanged from father to son, Jesse Manes sticks to impersonal compliments that Alex, despite knowing better, desperately seeks.

“I found someone who’s been looking to hire their own personal security,” Alex explains, sitting down opposite his father. “With all the Antarians moving in, they’re interested in protecting themselves against an alien threat. They figured a decorated airman would be their best bet.”

“So you’re a bodyguard,” Jesse says. Looking impressed just seconds ago, he doesn’t seem nearly as pleased anymore. And here Alex thought he’d be pleased by a fake tale of humans who hate Antarians as much as he does. “Alex, you’re only one step above a rent-a-cop. Do you know how that’s going to look?”

Alex resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead stuffing a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. Better to busy himself with eating than focus on his mounting frustration. “The pay’s good for the work I’m doing,” he insists, “and this contract is going to last for three years _minimum_. The only downside is that they want me to live on their property, but they’re going to give me everything I need. Food, clothes—”

“Stop right there,” Jesse quickly interrupts. The moment he raises his hands, Alex’s mouth snaps shut. “You’re supposed to _live on their property_?”

The thought of moving out seemed ideal at the time of accepting the job. Alex assumed his father would love nothing more than to free up more space at home, but now it seems like Jesse wants anything but that. 

“I thought this would be better than accepting the job with King Zan,” Alex admits, testing the waters. Jesse doesn’t look the least bit pleased. If anything, he looks even more upset by the mention of Antar’s ruler. “Isn’t it?”

Rather than dignify his son with a response, Jesse falls silent. He spends a few moments stewing in his own thoughts, carefully chewing his food and dipping back in for another forkful. All the while, Alex’s anxiety spikes and a knot festers in the pit of his stomach. Much to his own shame, Alex feels like a child all over again; waiting for the hammer to drop and a punishment to be doled out accordingly. The only sound comes from the clock above their stove, then the clatter of utensils against his father’s plate. Eventually, Jesse steeps his fingers together and releases a deep sigh, and it’s in that moment when Alex realizes he’s in for a lecture. Abiding by the routine he knows so well, Alex immediately sits up straight and at attention.

“You are a decorated Purple Heart airman,” Jesse begins, “with three deployments under his belt. Explain to me why the job of a security guard is fitting for a man in your position, with the history and experience that you possess."

When Alex opens his mouth, Jesse shakes his hand. “Rhetorical question,” he clarifies. “There’s no legitimate reason for taking this job. Agreeing to live with your employers is a rookie mistake. That’s something a _child_ would do, Alex. An inexperienced and desperate _child_. Do you realize how many risks come with that? Living with people you don’t even know?

“What do you think people around town will say when they find out?” Jesse continues, as if Alex hasn’t already had enough of this degradation. “First the Antarians take our jobs. Now we’re just going to let them take our dignity while they’re at it? Why do you think I threw that job offer back in their face? Why do you think your brothers did the same?

“So we could keep our _pride_ ,” Jesse says, fists clenched atop the table. “Nothing’s more important than a man’s pride, Alex, and you’re willing to sell yours for a job that only lasts three years. Who’s to say your employer won’t let you go after those years are up? What then? What’s your backup plan for that?”

 _Getting off this damn planet_ , Alex thinks to himself. Rather than risk life and limb to prove a point, however, he chooses his words carefully. “I don’t know, Dad,” he sighs, “I’m hoping things will be different by then.”

“With the Antarians?” Jesse laughs, sounding as hollow and cold as Alex feels just by sitting there. “They’re going to continue polluting this world and turning it into their own personal playground. All we are to them are toys they’re going to get bored of sooner or later. Once they get what they need from the planet and decide we’re no longer necessary, life as we know it is over.”

Alex wants to ask how his father knows this, or ask why he’s so certain that the Antarians are nothing but bad news. There’s not much evidence pointing toward Antarians being a ruthless, soul-sucking species. Then again, it’s never been much of a secret that his father has xenophobic tendencies. Anyone or anything outside the cookie-cutter, all-American mold always strikes bigots like Jesse Manes the wrong way. An alien race is the perfect target for Jesse’s mistrust and animosity, but that doesn’t mean Alex has to agree.

“I leave tomorrow morning,” Alex eventually says, but only after an awkward, uncomfortable silence had settled between them. “The job is effective immediately.”

“Of course it is,” Jesse scoffs. He goes back to finishing his dinner, purposely clanging his knife and fork against the porcelain plate. If he wants to make his anger obvious, he’s doing a pretty good job at it. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Alex.”

Truth be told? He doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

From what Alex gathers, most people don’t know what King Zan looks like. No humans have seen him beyond news broadcasts or talk shows. For some reason, most Antarians have seen even less of him. (Apparently television isn’t a thing on Antar.) Because of how scarce his appearances have been, ‘Max’ doesn’t have to worry about anyone recognizing his human form. Not even Jesse Manes, who boasts of having the sharpest mind this side of the Mississippi, realizes the king of his self-proclaimed enemies has just parked in front of his house.

Alex is surprised to see Kyle driving a downtrodden van with Max casually sitting in the passenger seat. He assumes the rest of the team is hiding behind the heavily tinted backseat windows, but can’t be too sure.

“Don’t tell me they dragged Kyle into this,” Jesse immediately says. “Does his mother know about the job? I doubt Sheriff Valenti would be happy to hear her son’s throwing away his medical career to be a—”

“Kyle’s a grown man who makes his own decisions,” Alex interrupts, then quietly mutters, “and so am I.”

For someone who was opposed to Alex’s new job just hours ago, Jesse sure is eager to learn more about it. He’s propped up against the open doorway with his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest, giving both Kyle and Max an unimpressed look. It’s clear that he isn’t going to retreat into his home, and from the uncomfortable expression on Max’s face, this isn’t an ideal situation. Not even a day in and his father is already putting his job on the line.

The most unlikely of heroes suddenly swings the backdoor wide open, revealing a determined Michael and a furious Isobel. Alex catches her hissing an order to shut the door, but Michael outright ignores their employer. Instead, he saunters up to the front porch as if he owns the place, which would probably aggravate Alex at any other time (and is inevitably going to rub Jesse the wrong way). Right now? Well, Alex isn’t about to complain if it means they can get out of there as soon as possible.

“You look like you could use a hand,” is all Michael says, never once taking his eyes off Alex. He bends down to collect most of his luggage, leaving just one rollaway piece and the duffel strapped to Alex’s back. “This it?”

“Yeah,” is all Alex manages to get out. Michael has luggage tucked under each arm and another duffel bag slung over a shoulder, not looking the least bit overwhelmed. If Alex is temporarily dumbfounded by the sight, surely no one can blame him.

“Hey, Valenti!” Michael calls out, turning back toward the van. “Pop open the trunk, yeah?”

Kyle does as he’s told with little more than a nod. Alex finds himself running on autopilot as he follows Michael to the van, not even sparing his father a second thought. He rushes to add his belongings to the mountain of bags already squeezed into the trunk, trying to shove and squeeze a little too forcefully. It’s when he nearly breaks the handle of his rollaway that Michael suddenly takes hold of his wrist and gives Alex a concerned, almost knowing look.

“Ease up,” Michael murmurs, only loud enough for the two of them to hear. “Hop inside the van. Backseat, right behind Cameron. I’ll take care of the bags.”

Alex doesn’t need someone to coddle him, let alone do anything physical on his behalf. He may be one leg short of a full house, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of heavy lifting. Ten years serving in the military proves exactly that. However, it becomes increasingly clear that Michael doesn’t have any intention of taking pity on someone who doesn’t need it. If anything, it looks like he wants to get out of here just as quickly as Alex does.

Pulling his wrist from Michael’s grip, Alex simply nods in agreement. It’s on his way back around the side of the van that he finally looks up at his father, who is practically seething in anger, disappointment, and wounded pride. Given their argument the night before, accompanied by Jesse refusing to help Alex usher all his belongings out on the porch, Alex doesn’t feel the least bit inclined to wave goodbye or leave him with any last words. Jesse Manes was and never will be a sentimental man; no use wasting energy on an ‘I love you’ he’ll never appreciate.

Oddly enough, being stuffed into the backseat of a packed van feels better than any moment spent in that home. He has a sinking suspicion that they’ll treat him with more respect than his own flesh and blood ever has. Or so he thinks. It isn’t until Michael’s settling beside him, one arm slung over the back of Alex’s seat as their bodies slot together side-by-side, that the door slams shut. And once the van lurches forward, Isobel turns around to give Alex the third degree.

“Is it normal for human parents to hover over their grown children?” Isobel asks, looking just as judgemental as she sounds. “Your files said you’re twenty-eight, not seventeen. According to what I’ve read, human children are legal adults by the age of eighteen.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Michael loudly announces, rolling his eyes. “Any other pointless information you feel like sharing, Princess?”

If looks could kill, Michael would currently be bursting into flames and Alex would go up in smoke alongside him. Isobel looks as if she’s weighing the pro’s and con’s of leaning over to attack Michael, but a forlorn “ _Vilandra_ ” from Max apparently gets her to reconsider.

“All I’m suggesting,” Isobel grits out, “is that Sergeant Manes never mentioned having an overprotective father who might start meddling where he doesn’t belong.”

“He won’t,” Michael blurts before Alex can even open his mouth. To Alex, it’s bizarre that Michael’s spent the past five minutes coming to his aid when they’d spent most of yesterday butting heads. How Michael can go from a pain in the ass to a saving grace in such a short amount of time, Alex may never know.

“I think I can speak for myself,” Alex points out, only to follow it up with, “Guerin’s right, though. My father’s not going to start poking around. He’s already made it pretty clear how he feels about this entire arrangement.”

“You told your father about your position on the team?” Isobel questions, eyes narrowing. “After you were given instructions not to?”

“Of course not,” Alex insists. “As far as he knows, I’m working security for humans who’re paranoid about an Antarian invasion. That’s all he let me say before he told me _exactly_ how he feels about selling myself short as a rent-a-cop.”

He can feel Michael’s body stiffen right up against his own, but attributes it to the constant turning and lurching of the vehicle. Honestly, he’s trying not to think too hard about their close proximity, or the fact Michael has suddenly taken to being his defender.

“Let me remind you,” Michael directly tells Isobel, “that you offered the same deal to his old man. That means he already knows Antarian royalty is out searching for bodyguards, so you might as well have told him yourself.”

“That deal never went into specifics,” Isobel says. “He wouldn’t and _shouldn’t_ —” Pausing, she makes sure to toss a glare at Alex “—know anything beyond that.”

“And he doesn’t,” Michael snaps, clearly frustrated with the direction of their conversation. “Otherwise he would’ve said something before we left. Right, Manes?”

Instead of staring intently at one another, Michael and Isobel both turn to look at Alex. Pretty soon, he realizes Max and Jenna are also turned to listen, and he’s pretty sure Kyle is eavesdropping with the use of the rearview mirror.

“Right,” Alex finally says, side-eyeing Michael all the while. “He’s not someone you need to worry about. Trust me.”

“See?” Michael gestures to Alex. His hand slides from the back of Alex’s headrest and onto his shoulder, squeezing it for good measure. “Nothing to worry about.”

For a split second, Alex wonders how Michael seems to know so much about business that isn’t his own. No one but Isobel and Max should know about his father’s offer, given they were the ones trying to strike the deal. However, he’s soon distracted by Isobel huffing, then puffing, then twisting back around in her seat. Pure agitation is written across her face. He’d rather not start out on his employer’s bad side, but Michael’s an entirely different story. He has the nerve to mutter, “That’s what I thought,” under his breath, which earns him an elbow to the ribs.

“ _Ow_!” Michael hisses, clutching his side. “What the hell, Manes?”

“Let me remind _you_ ,” Alex whispers, “that she’s the one writing your checks. Don’t go picking fights if you want to keep this job, Guerin.”

“That’s a funny way of saying thank you,” Michael retorts, “but I’ll take it.”

As badly as Alex wants to respond, the honorable course of action would be to let Michael have the final word. After all, he _did_ come to Alex’s defense. Truth be told, Michael’s been more helpful than Alex cares to admit. So that’s the option Alex goes with, keeping his lips tightly pursed together and arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. Instead of striking up friendly chatter, the ride is spent listening to Kyle and Max quietly argue about directions. Brief conversations between Isobel and Jenna are peppered throughout the trip, but the back seat remains deathly silent. Somehow, Michael doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by Alex’s silence. His hand remains on Alex’s shoulder and the left half of his body is slotted right up against Alex’s right. It feels a little _too_ close for comfort, especially with someone Alex has only known for two days. The more time Alex spends with Michael, the less he seems to understand about his new coworker, and Alex doesn’t like that in the slightest.

Eventually, Alex is relieved to spot their destination in the distance. At first, it doesn’t look all that impressive — nothing more than a speck in the desert, surrounded by dirt as far as the eye can see. When they draw closer, however, Alex is made perfectly aware of its actual size. It looks more like a mansion than the humble, rustic ranch it was made out to be. The architecture is reminiscent of the old-fashion, Spanish-influenced designs Roswell was once known for. Well, before the Antarians had gone in to ‘fix’ the buildings they didn’t deem culturally significant or historically important to preserve. It’s clear the royal siblings are fond of the look.

Much to Alex’s surprise, Isobel takes charge the moment everyone has stepped off the van. It feels as if the rest of the world melts away, leaving Isobel and only Isobel at the center of attention. When she offers him a smile, for example, relief blossoms in his chest. The argument in the car seems irrelevant now, the weight of it leaving his shoulders. The tour she proceeds to give is nothing but cordial, and Alex is grateful to see her in a much better mood. To his surprise, she’s the epitome of the perfect host, playing the part of a regal, elegant princess down to a tee. It’s during the tour of the mansion that Alex comes to this realization, having grown quite enraptured by her grace and poise. Every sweep of her arms or flicker of her eyes, Alex feels compelled to follow her direction. It seems the others are just as eager to lead by her example. Through an expansive kitchen, a surprisingly cozy living room, and a never-ending backyard, they remain hot on Isobel’s heels.

“Everyone has their own room,” she explains, pointing toward each of six doors down a long, winding hallway. “My brother and I take the rooms at the very end. The one left of mine goes to Officer Cameron and the one left of my brother’s to Sergeant Manes, but the other two are up to Doctor Valenti and Mr. Guerin to decide.”

“Oh, sure,” Michael pipes up. When Isobel turns to look at him, so do the other three humans. “Everyone else gets a title except _Mr. Guerin_.”

Isobel laughs, prompting Alex and the others to laugh along with her. Michael doesn’t look the least bit pleased, but Alex assumes it’s because he’s been made the butt of an inside joke. Whatever inside joke that may be.

“Can I speak with you in private, Princess?” Michael asks, jaw clenched.

Again, Isobel laughs — light, airy, and not the least bit bothered. “Of course,” she says, turning to the rest of the group. “Would you mind waiting here while we talk in private?” All three humans shake their heads. “Perfect. Let’s step into my room, Mr. Guerin.”

 

* * *

 

The moment the door clicks shut, Michael turns to Isobel with a scowl etched across his face. “Are you really compelling them right now, Vilandra? _Seriously_?”

“It’s easier to explain everything when they’re all on the same page,” she sighs, plopping down in the nearest chair. When she sees that Michael remains as concerned as ever, her features soften. “Is this about Alex?”

“You gave him a hard time on the ride here,” he says. “Now you’re using your powers to get inside his head. I thought  _you and I_ were on the same page. I don’t care what you do with Valenti or Cameron, but I care what you do to Alex.”

“Rath,” she begins, watching as Michael impatiently paces around the room. “I understand that you have an infatuation with the human, but I’m your sister. You should already know that I’m going to be protective. I only want what’s best for you.”

“So using your powers on Alex is protecting me _how_?” He questions. “I don’t need you rattling around his head. That’s only going to prove to him that everything his father’s ever said is right.”

“Oh, so you want to lecture _me_ on using my powers?” She counters, raising a brow. “What about that little display back at his house? I know you didn’t carry all that luggage without a little help from _your_ powers. All so you could be his knight in shining armor.”

Michael is clearly taken aback, eyes widening and jaw going slack. However, he immediately schools his expression and turns away from Isobel, focusing his attention on the window to his left. From there, he sees Max unloading luggage from the car and has half a mind to pry open the window to give his brother a lecture. For what, he doesn’t know, but he feels it won’t be right until he chews Max out too. It never feels right unloading everything onto Isobel.

“I’m sorry,” Isobel sighs, coming up behind Michael. She places her hands on his shoulders and gives a slight, reassuring squeeze. “You know I hate it when we fight. We shouldn’t be arguing over something so trivial when there’s so much at stake.”

As much as he hates to admit it, Michael’s inclined to agree. “I know,” he says, releasing the tension from his shoulders. “I’m sorry for snapping. I just…”

“He means a lot to you,” she finishes. “I can tell.” When Michael remains silent, she relents. “ _Fine_. I promise not to use my powers on Alex, even if it inconveniences me. We’ll just let him wander around the estate like a lost child, and you can follow him like one of those canines the humans love so much—”

“ _Vilandra_ ,” he groans, head falling back in exasperation.

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughs. It manages to draw a small chuckle from her brother. “The point is, I’ll leave this in your hands. If you think he can be trusted, then so do I.”

“Thank you,” he replies. “That’s all I ask.”

“Just be careful,” she adds, pulling him into a hug. However, it quickly turns into a tight chokehold Michael can’t seem to get out of. “And don’t think you can sass me in front of your new human friends, either. Understood?”

Choking, Michael manages to sputter, “Got it!”

“Lovely,” she says, releasing him from her grip. “Now, let’s go join the group again. I left them standing in the hallway and you’re making me feel guilty about it.”

Michael snorts, but decides to keep his mouth shut. He’s just relieved that he and Isobel are back on the same wavelength, though he has a feeling Max will be an entirely different story. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, feel free to leave a comment, gimme some kudos, or privately hug your phone/computer close to your chest and whisper, "Thank you." I promise I'll hear your kind words, sense your gratitude, and smile to myself. You can also find me at my Roswell-exclusive blog, [alexmanes](http://alexmanes.tumblr.com/), if you'd like to talk!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, gals, and non-binary pals, I really thought I could finish this fic within five chapters. It was ambitious and brave of me to make that assumption, but also so incredibly stupid. I'm sure you guys won't mind seven chapters instead? I've spent so many hours writing, rewriting, and saving different chunks, but that means I have next chapter halfway written at 2.5K words. I literally took 45% of what I wrote for this chapter and saved it for later. That's not even counting the 2K worth of snippets saved for the following chapters either. I'm a hot mess, but I still hope you guys enjoy this update. (Warning: the  
> 'mature' rating comes into play at the end of this chapter. Beware!)

Alex would like to say having Michael as a neighbor isn’t so bad, but it is. It really is.

When Michael takes the room beside his own, Alex doesn’t protest. Michael’s an outsider, having just rolled into Roswell weeks prior, but Kyle? He became a dependable and upstanding guy after high school, far from the pretentious jerk Alex once knew him to be. It’s this very reason that Alex thinks Kyle is better off rooming beside Jenna, especially with how unpredictable Michael can be. However, Alex comes to regret this decision a week later.

For starters, Michael has an awful habit of blasting music at all hours of the night. Given how thick the walls are, Alex is surprised he’s able to pick up on the sound. Even worse is the fact he’s the _only_ person in the house who does. Perhaps it’d be more bearable if Michael stuck to a specific genre, but his personal taste spans across all of them. He plays everything and anything on the stereo system in his room — which, Alex would like to add, wasn’t there when they first moved in. Just two days into their stay, Michael managed to build and configure a full-blown surround sound system before lunch was served. Since then, he’s put it to good use and driven Alex up the walls.

“I thought the military taught you how to sleep through anything,” is all Michael says when Alex confronts him. “Besides, no one else has an issue. You sure you’re not just imagining things? Who says it’s my music you’re hearing?”

“Last night you played Take Me Home, Country Roads for two hours straight,” Alex accuses. “The night before, you were on a Nickelback binge. And the night before that? I had to sit through Post Malone’s last album. Should I go on?”

From where he’s sitting at the kitchen table, Michael simply smirks over his cup of coffee. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, the smirk quickly growing into a shit-eating grin. “I think it’s all in your head, Manes. If you want to see for yourself though, you’re more than welcome to spend a night in my room.”

The mischievous glint in Michael’s eyes, coupled by the wink he throws Alex’s way, nearly causes Alex to choke on his own coffee. The conversations ends on that note when Kyle enters the kitchen, immediately asking about the group’s plans for the day. Alex is thankful for the distraction, but the issues don’t stop there. When it comes to their laundry, Alex swears up and down that Michael intentionally swaps their clothes. One piece of clothing could reasonably get mixed up, but nearly half of his whole wardrobe? Not a chance.

“This isn’t even your size!” Alex exclaims, gesturing to the shirt Michael is obviously stretching out. Alex has no choice but to wear one of Michael’s plain undershirts as a result. Thankfully, Michael snatched up a band tee Alex has held onto since high school, so Kyle is able to vouch on his behalf.

“Our friend Rosa bought it for him junior year,” Kyle confirms. “I was at her family’s diner when she and Alex got back from their Green Day concert.”

“Wow, Manes, you were a punk kid back in the day?” Michael teases, looking awfully pleased with the new information. “I wouldn’t peg you as the type.”

“Shut up, Guerin,” Alex snaps, trying to push his way into Michael’s room. “I’m not the one who listens to Nickelback unironically.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Michael says. His hands immediately land on Alex’s hips, gently nudging him back toward the door. “This is my sanctuary, Manes. If you want to get in here so bad, you’ve gotta ask first."

“What I want—” Alex tugs on Michael’s shirt. “—is my stuff back. I have a flannel missing and I bet it’s somewhere in here too.”

“How do I know it’s not really _my_ flannel?” Michael counters. “For all I know, you took it from me and tried passing it off as yours. Maybe I’m just taking back what’s mine. Don’t you see me wearing flannels all the time?”

“He has a point,” Kyle begrudgingly admits, but Alex clearly isn’t buying the excuse.

When that much becomes obvious, Michael releases Alex from his grip, holds up his hands in surrender, and proceeds to strip right in front of him. Kyle immediately looks away, but Alex’s gaze doesn’t waver from Michael’s face. Well, no longer than a split second. He does sneak a quick peek at Michael’s toned physique, but only when he’s positive Michael’s view is blocked by the shirt. Even Alex has to admit that Michael’s impressively fit. Perhaps a little too fit for someone who claims to be nothing more than a genius.

“Here,” Michael announces, finally tugging the fabric up over his head. Alex’s eyes instantly flicker back up, but the smug look on Michael’s face makes one thing clear: he caught Alex staring. “It’s all yours, Manes.”

Alex can’t tell if Michael’s referring to the shirt or his six-pack and thinking of the latter sends warmth pooling somewhere Alex refuses to acknowledge. So he opts to snatch the shirt right out of Michael’s hands and awkwardly clear his throat. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” is all he gets out before making a hasty retreat. Of course, that’s not the last of the clothes swapping fiasco. The same situation happens at least two more times, but Kyle happens to be absent for both and Jenna gets to catch the tail end of one.

“Cute,” she remarks, sipping her coffee in a judgmental fashion. Her eyes are hidden behind thick-rimmed sunglasses, but Alex can still tell she’s judging them from afar. Leaning against the doorframe of her room, Jenna looks far more composed than Alex thinks is fair. It’s six in the morning and she’s perfectly put together, all while he’s arguing with Michael over a damn shirt? She has every reason to sit back and poke fun at their predicament.

“When you two are done pulling each other’s pigtails,” she eventually says, “I need to run a sweep of the premises with Manes. ‘Til then, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

It’s safe to say that if given a second chance, Alex would most definitely swap Kyle for Michael. As it stands, however, he can’t — and much to his own chagrin, part of him doesn’t really mind. Granted, that part is a side of Alex he doesn’t particularly care to focus on and hasn’t tuned into for the past ten years. His sexuality has always come second to his duty as a soldier and as a Manes man, especially when his father first found out. Discovering his youngest son was gay led to Jesse igniting a fight to end all other fights in the Manes household. Had Alex not enrolled in the military with added pressure from his brothers, then he and his father could’ve gone the rest of their lives without speaking. Since enlisting, Alex can’t remember the last time another man showed the slightest interest in him.

On that note, Alex isn’t entirely sure what Michael’s game is, but he has a feeling it’s Guerin’s own brand of bizarre flirting. There’ve been enough innuendos slipped between the cracks and carefully placed smirks or winks to indicate that Michael’s interested in something. There’s no way he’d behave like this if he isn’t. And as rusty as it may be, Alex likes to think his gaydar is still perfectly capable of discerning between heterosexual banter and blatantly gay tendencies. That isn’t to say Alex is eager on calling Michael out, though. If anything, he’s perfectly content ignoring the elephant in the room, quelling the part of him that has an interest in Michael, and devoting most of his energy to the job they were hired to do. As any good employee should.

Surprisingly, neither Alex or Michael put their complicated relationship before their duties. Michael turns into a completely different person when he’s tasked with...well, with whatever he does. It’s become clear what everyone’s place on the team is. Alex and Jenna, for example, are equipped to handle weaponry and engage in hand-to-hand combat if need be. On the off-chance that someone tries to come for the royals, they’ll be ready. Since it’s far too risky to send Isobel and Max to a human hospital, Kyle has been briefed on typical Antarian anatomy and gives each royal a daily checkup. Then there’s Michael, who is still as vague as possible when it comes to his role.

“I’m constantly running tests and crunching numbers to make sure Isobel and Max can handle prolonged exposure to our planet,” he explains, but only when Jenna probes him for more information. “Let’s just say Valenti wouldn’t be able to take care of them if it wasn’t for me.”

“Is that all you do?” Kyle asks, reading through a stack of papers. Alex peers over his shoulders, trying to assess everything Michael’s scrawled across the pages. “Not that this information isn’t helpful, but something tells me you’re selling yourself short.”

“Oh, I am,” Michael openly admits, cracking what has quickly become his signature grin. “I just don’t think anyone wants to be bored with the details.”

“If I had a brain like yours, I don’t think I’d ever shut up,” Jenna remarks.

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time one of you complains about my big mouth,” Michael chuckles, eliciting laughter from the others.

Considering their situation, it’s surprising how easily they all get along. There arises a camaraderie in the coming weeks, something that binds them together and brings out the best in every member. Alex comes to learn that no one can beat Jenna at Blackjack or Texas Hold ‘Em, but she willingly teaches Max and Isobel all of her old tricks. Kyle is the only competent cook in the whole house, specializing in Mexican food that never ceases to impress the royals. Even Michael serves a purpose, teaching their employers how to use basic Earth technology. While Max flourishes with Michael’s help, Isobel remains steadfast in her ways. Her main obstacle is finding something she actually approves of, then listening to Michael long enough to understand what she’s supposed to do with it. It becomes a secret spectacle for the whole group, watching with bated breath and thinly concealed amusement to see what Isobel will say about the latest tech thrown at her.

“This is so...” Isobel trails off, studying the phone in her hand. Max and the humans have all gathered around her at the kitchen table, intently watching her every move. When her brows furrow, so do theirs. “I don’t want to say it’s primitive, but...”

“It’s primitive by your standards,” Alex finishes. “To be fair, that’s about two years out of date. You could argue that it’s primitive by our standards too.”

“Is that so?” Isobel mutters, nose wrinkling in disgust. With a flick of her wrists, the phone is sent sliding across the table to Michael. “You heard him. Find me a better one.”

“You’re kidding me,” Michael groans, throwing his head back in frustration. His body slides halfway down his chair so that he’s only visible from the neck up, and Alex hides a snort behind his coffee cup. “This is the fifth phone you’ve turned down. Do you have any idea how much these things cost? Let’s not forget that you make me ship them to a post office an hour outside of Roswell, drive there to pick it up, then spend the rest of the day tweaking their operating systems until they’re untraceable.”

“Wow, Guerin having to _actually_ do his job?” Jenna gasps, feigning shock for an unamused Michael. “I can’t believe my ears.”

At that point, Alex temporarily tunes out both Jenna and Michael, who’ve delved into a lighthearted argument. Isobel’s gaze suddenly flickers to where Alex sits, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Alex is tempted to ask if he’s done something wrong, worried that a month of amicable conversations and good spirits are about to go right down the drain.

Instead, Isobel flashes him a smile and says, “If you hate going to the post office, why not just visit a store? Take Alex with you while you’re at it. He sounds like he knows what he’s talking about, because you obviously don’t.”

Somehow, her words pulls Michael away from his banter with Jenna. He glances between Isobel and Alex, as if trying to asses the intention behind Isobel’s words. The suggestion startles Max as well, though Alex can’t imagine why he’s so shocked by the idea.

“I’ll tag along,” Max adds, only to earn a scathing glare from Isobel. “Or not.”

“Three people going to buy one phone is suspicious,” Isobel points out. “Even I know that. Besides, you haven’t gotten a checkup in two days and I don’t need you dragging back some awful human disease. If I get sick while we’re here—”

“Point taken,” Max interjects. “Michael and Alex it is, then.”

“Is that an order or a suggestion?” Alex asks. He can never be too sure about requests they casually throw around.

“Both,” Isobel replies with a quick shrug. “I don’t think Michael has good taste and I trust that you do, but you don’t _have_ to go with him. Maybe someone else wants to take your place.”

“Max needs his checkup,” Kyle blurts out as Jenna says, “I’d kill him on the drive there.” Jenna clearly doesn’t mean it, but Alex is inclined to believe a two hour drive with Michael can drive anyone to drastic measures. Even someone as collected as Kyle can be pushed to that point.

“Wow, alright. Fuck you guys,” Michael scoffs, finally sitting back up. “I’m the best company out of all you assholes. Isn’t that right, Manes?”

“The jury’s still out on that one,” Alex sighs, “but you did fix the air conditioner last week, so I’m going to go with ‘yes’ until you prove me wrong.”

“I’ll take it,” Michael says, looking awfully pleased with Alex’s response. “Just like you need to take your ass out to the van. The sooner we leave, the better. I’m not about to miss dinner on Taco Tuesday.”

 

* * *

 

About fifteen minutes into their trip, Alex realizes this is the first time they’re truly alone. No one else is going to barge into their private conversations. No one will accidentally stumble across their moments of playful banter. It’s just Alex, Michael, and the open road. There’s a familiar comfort Alex can’t pinpoint, something so bone-deep and instinctual it actually takes him by surprise. A sense of safety and security washes over him, and with every mile put between Alex and Roswell, so does relief. For the first time since taking on the job, he feels at peace. It’s so unlike himself that he purposely keeps quiet during the first leg of the trip, assuming Michael will more than make up for his silence. As it turns out, Michael doesn’t. Alex catches Michael staring at him more than a few times, as if waiting for Alex to be the one to strike up a conversation, but he stays just as tight-lipped.

“So…” Alex doesn’t know where to begin, but takes the bait nonetheless. Surely there’s something he can say to draw Michael out. “I heard you listening to Green Day last night. Can I take credit for that?”

Much to Alex’s relief, his comment gets a chuckle out of Michael. “Yeah, well, that shirt incident the other week got me thinking. I decided to give them a try. Not gonna lie, I can see why high school Alex thought they were the shit.”

“They still _are_ the shit,” Alex snorts. “I can’t believe someone who likes Nickelback is insinuating Green Day is outdated.”

“Your words, not mine,” Michael insists. “I never said they were outdated. It just fits the bill for skater kid turned upstanding citizen.”

“And how do you know I was a skater kid?” Alex teases.

A brief look of panic flickers across Michael’s face, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. “Lucky guess,” he says. “I figure someone like you had to have a rebellious teen phase.”

Though Alex isn’t going to readily admit defeat, Michael’s spot on. Alex remembers being an unruly teenager, often arguing with his father over this and that. Clashing with his older brothers. Resenting his father for driving his mother away. Many nights were spent crashing with the Ortechos or Maria, leaning on his friends for support he couldn’t get from his family. Rosa, Liz, and Maria had all embraced Alex when he was comfortable enough to come out of the closet. His father? Not so much.

“Am I that easy to read?” Alex eventually asks.

Michael shrugs and bluntly states, “Your dad looks like a real piece of work. Makes sense that you would’ve tried sticking it to him as a kid.”

If Jesse Manes was a better father, maybe Alex would be rushing to defend him. As it stands? Alex can’t help but chuckle in response. It’s easier to do that than focus on the years spent despising his father, or acknowledging the resentment he still carries with him. It’s not something he plans on discussing in length, but Michael seems eager to push that particularly sensitive button.

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Michael questions. “That day we picked you up, I swear he was about to lose his shit. I know he’s got this beef with the Antarians, but he doesn’t know about Max and Isobel. Why’d he look so pissed?”

Not even Alex can answer that question. Perhaps Jesse worries that by letting his son out of his sights and away from the strict regiments of the military, Alex will slip back into his old ways. He’ll become the same unruly boy he’d been before his time in the air force, or so Jesse thinks. Maybe he fears Alex taking what looks to be a low-end job will reflect poorly on their whole family. After all, he’s always been careful when cultivating the Manes’ public image. However, Alex is beginning to think that Jesse is nothing more than a bitter, old man past his prime who can’t fathom change and refuses to get with the times.

“He’s all about control,” Alex says instead. “Whenever he doesn’t get his way, he’ll have these temper tantrums where he gives you the cold shoulder for a while. If you start ignoring him, he’ll throw out low blows and cheap shots. Honestly? I don’t know which is worse, but I’ve been on the receiving end of both.”

Michael falls silent after that. Alex thinks that might be the end of the conversation, but one glance at Michael says otherwise. There’s a pained look on his face that Alex can’t quite place, and if he didn’t know any better, he might say there’s guilt lingering just beneath the surface.

“You don’t deserve that,” is the first thing to come from Michael’s mouth. It’s not what Alex is expecting by any means. “It’s good that you took the job, got yourself out of there.”

“Yeah. Right,” Alex mutters, not entirely sure how to respond.

He hates how awkward and choppy it sounds tumbling from his mouth, but he doesn’t know what else to say, how to even broach the topic of his father with Michael. Michael, who represents everything his father hates in this world, who is quickly getting under Alex’s skin in ways Jesse would vehemently try to smother if given the chance. There’s too much to unpack, so many awful memories Alex has tried in vain to suppress, but a part of him is eager to divulge this information with Michael. Maybe Alex just needs someone to vent to, someone who’ll listen and sympathize with him and reassure him that Jesse truly is a shit father, that none of this has ever been or will ever be Alex’s fault. Maybe it’s the scorching, sweltering summer weather that’s beginning to get to him. Making his reserve slip. Melting all preconceived obligations to everyone other than himself, and the pressure that comes with them, right off his shoulders.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Michael says, looking awfully guilty for someone who shouldn’t. “I get it, your dad is probably a—”

“Asshole,” Alex interjects. “He’s an asshole, Guerin. You don’t have to dance around it. He’s not going to change, so there’s no point ignoring the obvious.”

That seems to encourage Michael, who proceeds to ask, “Your old man’s that bad, huh?”

Alex bites back a laugh. “Worse than you think.”

The next thirty minutes are spent venting about a childhood Alex would wish on no one. The golden years when his mother was still around and maintaining peace in the family. Alex admits that he’s more like his mother in both looks and personality, which he suspects is where his father’s animosity stems from. Then he discusses the years following her departure, attributing those as the worst of his life. How Alex constantly found himself compared to all three of his older brothers, despite being leagues younger. He doesn't spend too much time on his father's reaction to his sexuality, but does mention the effort taken to stifle that part of Alex through any means necessary. Alex's worst memories are of being beaten, his only saving grace being Jim Valenti. Once opposed to the military, Alex found himself enlisting for his father's sake. Despite mistreatment at the hands of an abusive father, Alex always strove to make him proud, desperately clinging to any shred of respect he could garner. Even now, he still finds himself hoping that Jesse will come around, will learn to accept Alex for who he is. 

“Why do you care so much about what he thinks?” Michael questions.

“He’s the only parent I have left,” Alex admits. Quietly, almost shamefully. “There’s always going to be a part of me that wants to give him a chance.”

“A chance to _what_?” Michael counters.

“Apologize, maybe,” Alex sighs. “Make up for lost time. Own up to his mistakes. I guess I’m looking for forgiveness where I’m not going to get it.”

Michael doesn’t say anything after that. The only sound is the rattling of the van’s tires on the open road, miles and miles of highway still stretched out before them. Alex wonders if maybe he said a little too much, unloading far too much baggage for Michael’s liking. Then, much to Alex’s surprise, Michael opens up.

“I wish I was man enough to do that,” he wistfully remarks. “Between you and me, I don’t think I could ever forgive my parents. Even if they came to me and apologized for all the shit they’ve put me through, I’d probably throw it right back in their face.”

Alex’s brows furrow in confusion, and he opens his mouth to ask for clarification when the van suddenly rumbles and sputters, dark smoke billowing up from the hood. Michael has no choice but to pull up by the side of the road, swearing like a sailor all the while. He kicks the side of the van once he hops out, and Alex is startled when the whole vehicle gets jostled about. That’s when he decides it’s better to hop out than sit idle.

“Is it the oil?” Alex calls out. When he joins Michael, he’s already popped open the hood and is frantically trying to wave the smoke away. Alex leans against the edge of the van and watches Michael at work, checking the various bits and bobs of the engine.

“Seems like it,” Michael sighs, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “Don’t know why the light didn’t go off, but it looks like we’ve been running low for a while now. We still have the emergency phone on us, right?”

“In the glove department,” Alex confirms.

“Give Max a call and tell him the van broke down,” Michael instructs. “We’re gonna need some backup.”

Somehow, they get a signal out in the middle of nowhere. It’s a miracle in and of itself, but they’re almost an hour from the others and a series of precautions need to be taken before anyone can come get them. Given the heat, coupled with the condition of the van, Michael and Alex have no choice but to lounge in the backseat to avoid the sun’s harsh gaze. Neither is particularly happy about their lack of AC, but Alex likes to think it could be worse.

Then Michael decides to pop open the buttons of his flannel, revealing a toned chest that threatens to send Alex into a gay panic. Now it has, in fact, gotten worse.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Michael says, sounding like he doesn’t care either way. The smirk spreading across his lips proves as much. “It’s getting pretty hot in here, y’know?”

Alex’s mouth goes dry. “Sure,” he eventually replies. “Makes sense.”

Apparently his small talk isn’t what Michael wants. If anything, Michael looks downright disappointed, as if expecting Alex to take the bait. If they weren’t confined to the backseat of the van, maybe he would. However, Alex doesn’t know if this is the best time to cave into Michael’s whims, but maybe it’s high time he confront him about them.

“Is this intentional?” Alex dares to ask, turning to fully face Michael. “Not just this.” He pauses, gesturing to Michael’s open shirt. “But everything else — helping load my luggage, swapping our clothes, using vague innuendos. I’m not imagining any of that, am I?”

Michael doesn’t miss a beat. “Nope,” he openly admits. Rather smugly, Alex notices. “I was wondering when you’d catch on.”

“You didn’t even know I was gay,” Alex argues, because Michael couldn’t have. He’s always done his best to suppress his sexuality and make sure it's the last thing on anyone's mind. It keeps his father happy; maintains the artificial peace within the Manes family. Even if it makes Alex miserable, at least it doesn't cause problems.

“Call it intuition,” Michael suggests, brushing aside any of Alex’s concerns. “Is there a problem with us fooling around? Because I don't see what the big deal is.”

Alex wants to say that yes, there is. He wants to say that this can’t happen because it puts the entire operation in jeopardy. Mixing business with pleasure poses a risk to every other person living in that house, especially if things turn sour. If Michael and Alex find themselves at odds with one another, there’s no telling what that means for Max and Isobel’s safety. This makes things far too complicated, much too messy. Then there’s another part — an overwhelmingly influential part — of Alex that thinks this might not be so bad. There’s nothing that says this needs to get complicated; they could be friends with benefits, scratching an all too familiar itch for one another. They’re going to be out here for three years, relatively cut off from the rest of the world. It might be nice to have someone to share a bed with, to keep Alex company when the going gets tough. There’s a need buried so deep, Alex hadn’t even realized it was there. It only reveals itself now that he’s in such close proximity to Michael. There's only a few inches between the two of them, though Michael is slowly closing the distance. His hand slides up Alex’s knee, delving higher and higher until he’s practically cupping Alex through his jeans.

“This doesn’t have to be anything serious,” Michael murmurs, as if reading his mind. “And life’s too short to worry about what other people think, Alex. Fuck everyone else.”

Alex knows Michael is right, but even now, he’s fretting over what people will think. If someone magically stumbles upon them, everything could change. They’re in the middle of nowhere, yet the paranoia still remains. Alex wishes he could forget about the hypothetical disappoint and disgust of his father, or the scandalized whispers that could spread through town. But maybe there's just enough time to ignore those thoughts. To give into the temptation. To finally think about what _he_ wants, not anyone else.

“Okay,” Alex says, before the words elude him. “Let’s do this.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t wait for Michael to make the first move. Worried he might reconsider if given the chance, Alex tugs on the collar of Michael’s flannel and closes the distance between them, meeting him halfway in a breathtaking kiss. For all of the shameless flirting Michael’s done, practically flaunting himself at every given opportunity, the kiss isn’t half as fierce or passionate as Alex expects. It’s slow, sensual — painstakingly gentle as Michael’s hands slide up the base of his neck, tugging him closer. There’s a bit of hesitation between every brush of their lips, as if Michael’s offering Alex the opportunity to step back and reconsider. As if he expects Alex to push him away, to rebuild walls Michael’s spent the better part of a month trying to get past. But Alex doesn’t pull back, doesn’t even show the slightest indication that there’s anywhere else he’d rather be than right here, right now, with Michael’s mouth on his. He returns the kiss with a bit more fervor, surging forward with fingers carding through Michael’s curls and giving an experimental tug. Alex is pleased that his gut instinct was right, though Alex can’t put his finger on where the assumption comes from. All he knows is with every yank of Michael’s golden locks, his lips swallow up a moan, and that's all the information he needs.

Pretty soon, Alex is stealing every breath, every whisper, every little sound to come from Michael’s parted lips, remaining steady and insistent until Michael’s pressing him against the backseat and settling on top of him. It’s a lucky coincidence that Alex’s right leg is cradled against the seats, making the position a bit more comfortable and not giving him room to pause. Hips match up with hips, and it’s not long before a bit of wriggling gets Michael’s thigh between Alex’s leg. That’s when Alex can feel him growing hard through his jeans; feel how hot and desperate and needy Michael is for this, though he’s clearly no different. That much is obvious when he grinds up against Michael and Michael purposely presses his thigh against Alex’s clothed erection, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through Alex’s body.

The last time Alex found himself making out in the backseat of someone’s car, it was with his first (and only) boyfriend back in high school. He’d been a naive kid who jumped into the first relationship to present itself in a narrow-minded town, hoping to experiment before he sold his soul to the military. His boyfriend had been more like an exclusive friend with benefits, and the two often exchanged quickies and blowjobs where no one could see. There were far too many nights when Alex had snuck off to fool around in the back of a beat-up truck, relying solely on the experience of someone who was just as clueless. Just thinking about those memories leaves him with second-hand embarrassment, which isn’t doing him any favors when Michael’s hands are making quick work of his jeans.

Thankfully, Michael knows exactly what he’s doing. Neither of them are oblivious teenagers doing this for the first time, but Alex might go as far as calling Michael a pro. He knows every last button to push until Alex is rendered speechless beneath him, back arching and hips gyrating up against Michael’s. The gasp of pleasure that slips from Alex’s mouth is immediately muffled by a searing kiss, all while Michael’s hands slide past the waistband of his briefs. When Michael’s lips latch against the underside of his jaw, Alex’s hands slip from the back of Michael’s neck and down his back. He feels Michael’s muscles flexing beneath his fingertips, straining with the effort he’s put into getting a solid grip on Alex’s ass.

That’s the exact moment the emergency phone begins chiming from the front seat. Michael curses under his breath and Alex’s head falls back in defeat, but neither one bothers to move their hands. It isn’t until the phone chimes with a second call that Michael finally releases Alex in favor of fumbling around for it. His movements are far from graceful, but there’s still charm to be found in his broody demeanor. The way he pouts, brows furrowed and nose scrunched up, is endearing in its own right. It’s the first time Alex gets to see him this way, far removed from the macho front he puts up for everyone else.

“Can I help you?” Michael answers, breathless. Alex can hardly make out what’s being said on the other end, but it definitely sounds like Max. “Don’t worry about it. What did you wanna tell us?” Michael lets Max go on a tangent, rolling his eyes every few words. The call goes on for so long, Michael balances the phone between his shoulder and cheek, just so one of his hands is free to fondle Alex — who is far from complaining. He falls pliant beneath Michael, hips bucking when Michael’s hand slides down the front of his jeans. “Listen, we’re really busy trying to fix the engine.” As he says that, Michael’s fingers wrap around the base of Alex’s cock and give an brief tug. Alex swears he sees stars. “You said you’ll be here in ten, right? Well, we’re not going anywhere. You can just fill us in when you get here. Sound good? Awesome, now leave us alone.”

Michael doesn’t even give Max a chance to respond. He simply maneuvers the phone from its resting place, ends the call, and promptly tosses it onto the driver’s seat. His attention is back on the man beneath him, and the passion in Michael’s eyes sends a shiver up Alex’s spine. It doesn’t take very long for Michael to dive back in, lips capturing Alex’s and his hand beginning a steady rhythm. All Alex can do is moan into the kiss, hips bucking into the touch and heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“Think we can both get off in ten minutes?” Michael mumbles. He’s shamelessly rutting against Alex’s thigh, which is a lot more attractive than it has any right to be.

“I say seven,” Alex teases, hands already fumbling for Michael’s belt.

Michael grins against his lips. “Wanna bet?”

Alex responds by sliding his hand beneath the band of Michael’s boxers, and Michael reacts accordingly — groaning, thrusting his cock into Alex’s palm, and smearing Alex’s fingers with precum.

“You little shit,” Michael groans, to which Alex laughs. “Two can play that game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, feel free to leave a comment, gimme some kudos, or privately hug your phone/computer close to your chest and whisper, "Thank you." I promise I'll hear your kind words, sense your gratitude, and smile to myself. You can also find me at my Roswell-exclusive blog, [alexmanes](http://alexmanes.tumblr.com/), if you'd like to talk!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the CW decided to deprive us of a new episode this week, this chapter is going to be extra long and from Michael's perspective. Shocking, I know, but I thought it'd be fun to peek into Michael's side of things and drop some more fic lore for you guys. I’ve went ahead and changed some tags too, just to reflect ship changes and to warn against an eventual character death that is neither Alex or Michael. Like last chapter, there’s some smut sprinkled in for good measure. Also, I want to mention how all of the supportive comments encourage me to keep going! I don’t reply because I’m afraid I’ll sound stupid and awkward as hell, but the comments are why I continue updating and I cherish every last one of them. I’m always doubting myself and second-guessing the chapters I post (like this one), but seeing you guys eager to read helps ease my nerves. That being said, this chapter was really difficult to write and there's stuff being set up that feels vaguely OOC, but there's a reason for that and you get a glimpse of that toward the end. Please, just...be ready for shit to hit the fan from here on out. That's all I can say.

When Max and Jenna come to their rescue, Michael has already braced himself for Alex’s reaction. He knows Alex isn’t the type of person to openly discuss his love life or lack thereof, especially when he feels there are certain duties that come first. A misplaced obligation to his father, coupled with the responsibility of protecting Max and Isobel, is what keeps Alex so far removed from his own happiness. It took Michael a whole year to bring Alex out of his shell nearly four years ago. Between then and now, Michael can’t help but worry that Jesse Manes has done far too much irreparable damage, stifling Alex in ways Michael once fought so actively against. It’s going to take more than a handjob in the backseat of a van to coax out the Alex that Michael knows and loves, but he’s willing to give it a try. Once a soulmate, always a soulmate.

So he gets Alex cleaned up, making it seem like the heat is the cause of their debauched, unkempt appearances. There are a few more kisses exchanged, but Michael can tell when it becomes a little too real for Alex. In place of kisses, he whispers suggestions of continuing this later, but doesn’t show any indication of holding Alex to them. If this goes any further, it needs to be on Alex’s terms; not Michael’s. He doesn’t let Alex’s nonchalance bother him once help arrives, putting up his own indifferent front to lessen the sting. If he seems distant during the ride back to homebase, it’s because he’s still reveling in the moment they shared. For the brief time they were alone, Michael had Alex all to himself again. Those sweet, precious moments made him feel as if the past three years of absolute hell hadn’t happened. But they did, and Michael will never have the luxury of forgetting that, and he’d be foolish to think anything can change the past.

When they arrive home, Alex acts as if nothing’s out of the ordinary. As if he hadn’t poured his heart out to Michael and shared a few passionate moments by his side. Yet it does nothing to curb the mixture of guilt, anger, and frustration that bubbles up within Michael, threatening to overflow if he doesn’t get a grip on himself. Michael knows he shouldn’t be surprised by Alex’s need for secrecy, though. He counts his blessings and reminds himself that Alex will come crawling back when the sun sets and they’re protected by the cover of darkness. That’s how their relationship began all those years ago. That’s how it will begin again.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Zan,” Isobel remarks, which is far from the truth. If anything, Michael hasn’t been spending _enough_ time with Max, purposely keeping some distance between them when they aren’t faking their professional relationship. But Isobel’s stumbled upon Michael brooding by himself in the backyard, so he can’t blame her for jumping to conclusions. “I thought you’d be inside with Alex, not moping around by yourself. Did you not make your move?”

“I did,” he says, sliding even further down his lawn chair. His eyes stay trained on the expansive night sky, even as Isobel settles down beside him.

“Yet you’re out here,” she counters. “Staring into space all alone. You didn’t even finish your tacos tonight, and Taco Tuesday is supposed to be your favorite.”

“Very observant of you,” he deadpans. “Anything else you wanna share, Vilandra? Maybe the color of the sky?”

In response, she sighs. “What happened?”

There’s only so much Michael can keep from Isobel. In all the years they’ve known each other, he can’t remember a time where she was anything but supportive — or inquisitive. One way or another, she’s going to get to the bottom of his moody demeanor. Better to come clean than give her a reason to rummage through his head.

“It’s what _didn’t_ happen,” he admits, rubbing his face in exasperation. “But it’s my fault. I’m pushing for a connection that’s not there yet.”

“Nothing happens overnight,” she chides. “We have three years on this planet, remember? You’re not in a rush.”

As selfish as it may sound, Michael doesn’t want to wait. He wants Alex back — _his_ Alex. That Alex made fun of his eclectic taste in music and purposely switched their clothes up, just so he could wear Michael’s baggy jackets or one-size-too-big shirts. He couldn’t get enough of Michael’s curls, always running his fingers through those golden locks. Michael can’t stomach three whole years of this back-and-forth and having no choice but to rebuild those memories from scratch. It took them just a few months to fall in love the first time around, so he isn’t sure his heart can handle anything longer than that.

“Rath,” she snaps, tone stern. He realizes that she’s taken to reading his mind amid the silence, following his every thought. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“Do what?” He scoffs, reaching for the beer bottle beside his chair.

“Torture yourself over this.” From where she’s sitting, Isobel takes the bottle and replaces it with her hand, giving Michael’s a gentle squeeze. “You did the right thing. If you hadn’t, then Alex would’ve been killed. Kivar wasn’t going to stop until—”

“Don’t bring that up,” he pleads, voice wavering with palpable anger. “I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t even want to think about him.”

“They’ll find him,” she presses on, though she doesn’t sound very convinced. “His supporters can only hide him for so long. Our parents are going to hunt him down and weed out his sympathizers until there’s nothing left.”

“Then what?” He questions. “There’s nothing back home for me, Vilandra. Not without Alex, and my parents aren’t going to suddenly accept him any more than they did before.”

“Have you and Zan talked about this?” Isobel quietly asks. Michael catches her toying with the fringes of her shirt; one of the nervous habits she’d picked up in recent years. “If he knew how you felt, he could talk to your parents. If anyone can get through to them, it’s Zan.”

Between the three of them, Max seems the least likely to understand. Isobel was quick to forgive Michael for skipping out on his obligations, but Michael knows Max still harbors some resentment. He can’t blame him, considering how everything’s turned out. All it took was Michael’s absence for a rebel faction to grow bold enough for an assassination attempt. While Michael was having his fun on Earth, Max was fighting for his birthright on Antar.

“Zan has more important things to worry about,” he decides. “It was hard enough convincing him to hire Alex. Telling him I want to bring my ex-fiancé back to Antar is pushing it.”

“Point taken,” she agrees, “but he wants you back home just as much as I do.”

Even now, when they find themselves billions of miles away from home, Isobel is still their peacekeeper. She’s desperate to keep her brother by blood and brother by choice from drawing further apart. Michael commends her for the effort, but doubts Max will be so eager to cater to him. He still remembers their heated arguments when picking humans for the crew, how Max only caved to Michael’s request because Isobel got involved.

After a few moments of silence, Isobel stands up and ruffles Michael’s curls. “Come back inside,” she encourages. “Alex is about to start his patrol and he’s going to wonder why you’re out here. As far as he knows, you’re _not_ an emotional wreck and you should probably keep it that way. We need to be careful with his memories.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, finally standing up alongside her. “Think Zan would get mad if I fucked Alex in the back of his truck?”

“And we’re back,” she mutters. “How do you do that?”

“What, change subjects? It’s called a coping mechanism. You should try it sometime,” he dismissively replies. “You didn’t answer my question, though. Would he—”

Before Michael can finish his train of thought, Isobel directs an intense stare his way. He feels a headache so powerful, he genuinely worries that his head might split in two. Thankfully the sensation swiftly comes and goes, but he can’t shake the phantom pain that lingers. Cradling his head between his hands, he takes a moment to gather his bearings.

“Okay,” he wheezes, “I deserved that.”

“You did,” she agrees, winding an arm around his shoulders. “You’re lucky I love you, otherwise I would’ve done worse than that.”

“ _So_ lucky,” he snorts, but a fond smile graces his features. “Keep it up and I’ll snitch to Zan.”

Sharing a laugh, they slip back inside. All the while, Michael ignores the pang of regret searing through his chest. He stuffs shaking hands into shallow pockets, forces his emotions back down his throat, and settles back into his facade.

 

* * *

 

They may be a ways away from the center of Roswell, but he knows Alex can’t shake the demons of his hometown. No one knows about their location, let alone their tentative relationship, but Alex is obviously waiting for the hammer to drop. As if all of this is too good to be true, soon to be pulled out from under his feet all over again. Maybe he remembers more than he’s letting on, or maybe his subconscious senses the missing pieces of his memory. Those moments from an entire year have long since been stripped away, leaving nothing but the distant echoes of the past. They still haunt Michael’s dreams, but Alex is lucky. Alex is spared from remembering what could’ve been, what _should’ve_ been, had Michael’s life on Antar not caught up to them.

But with every minor hiccup, Michael tells himself that these things take time. He pushes every last button Alex has, though not enough to actually aggravate him. Just enough to entice him. It’s as simple as whispering clever innuendos in Alex’s ear when they’re the only two around, or finding reasons to brush fingers and hands and shoulders, or flashing a cocky smirk he knows will secretly drive Alex insane. Everything boils down to staying in Alex’s comfort zone, which isn’t all that hard. Michael spent a whole year getting to know Alex inside and out; he’s well aware of what Alex does and doesn’t like. So long as no one else is around to see, they won’t have any problems.

Alex makes that abundantly clear the first time he visits Michael’s room. As Michael expects, it’s the middle of the night and everyone else in the house is fast asleep. Or so he hopes, because he isn’t keen on anyone hearing the sounds he’s making while Alex goes down on him. With Alex’s lips wrap around his cock, Michael cards his fingers through Alex’s hair and grabs a handful of his dark locks. It’s taking all of his willpower not to lose control and begin thrusting up into Alex’s mouth, especially when Alex takes even more of him down his throat. Alex glides one hand up Michael’s thigh, fingertips dancing across his taut muscles, while the other works the base of Michael’s cock. It’s as if he wants to draw more reactions out of Michael, who is slowly but surely losing his reserve.

“Alex,” Michael groans, more as a warning than anything else. He knows it’ll only be a matter of time before he reaches the cusp of his orgasm, thighs already burning with a familiar ache and abdomen beginning to seize up. When Alex begins sucking harder, tongue swiping along the underside of his shaft, Michael can’t help but buck into his mouth. “Fuck, I’m close.”

“Good,” Alex says, muffled by the cock still stuffed in his mouth.

When Michael attempts to pull him up by his hair, Alex tightens his grip and doubles down on his efforts, cheeks hollowing with every bob of his head. If that isn’t the most intoxicating sight Michael has ever seen, he doesn’t know what is. That’s what sends him over the edge once and for all. With another thrust of his hips, Michael locks his thighs around Alex’s head and releases down his throat, throwing his head back with a groan. Alex doesn’t seem the least bit fazed as he stays rooted in place, only making a vaguely startled sound in the back of his throat. Collapsing onto his back, Michael’s whole body goes lax against the soft sheets and he patiently waits for Alex to join him. Sure enough, he can feel the edge of the bed dipping under Alex’s weight. Face flushed and hair mussed, Alex’s lack of composure sends Michael’s heart soaring.

“I don’t think we should fool around in anymore cars,” Alex suggests. He sounds hoarse, but is otherwise no worse for wear. “Your bed’s a lot more comfortable.”

“Obviously,” Michael snorts, acting as nonchalant as possible. “Will you still let me listen to Nickelback while we’re fucking? Their music’s the only thing that gets me going.” He feels the need to toss out a poorly executed joke just to prove he’s not taking himself seriously. That he’s not taking _this_ seriously. Not yet, anyway.

Alex rolls his eyes and nudges Michael’s shoulder. “I’m serious. I like it better when it’s just the two of us. What happened in the van…”

“Is too risky?” Michael offers.

“I don’t like being so out in the open,” Alex clarifies, hand roaming across Michael’s bare chest. “You understand where I’m coming from, don’t you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Michael says, because he really does. When they first met, it’d been hard to understand why Alex wasn’t more open. Antar isn’t like Earth; no one there has a concept of sexuality, let alone any disdain for same-sex relationships. It took Michael time to understand and support Alex all those years ago, only because he was still so new to Earth. This time around? Michael’s better at being human, at accepting that Alex abides by Earth culture and not Antarian customs. “This’ll be our little secret.”

Alex just smiles at him, relief seeping through his body and radiating in ways only Michael can pick up on. Michael assumes it’s a result of the ‘alien imprint’ that can occur between humans and Anatarians, or so his personal studies have shown. It’s far from normal on Antar; practically non-existent save for extremely rare cases. Michael’s been on Earth long enough to know that whatever this is, it’s unique to this planet and its people and the Antarians who love them.

This is the first of many hurdles they come across, but far from the worst of it. From past experience, Michael knows Alex is struggling to lay his insecurities and vulnerabilities out in the open. Lest he wound his pride, Alex refuses to admit that he’s terrified of being more intimate with Michael, but that much becomes obvious as the days turn into weeks. Michael remembers the days where Alex could hardly stand to look at himself in the mirror, making bold assumptions on Michael’s behalf. He was always so sure that Michael didn’t want to look at him with his prosthetic on, that Michael found that part of him to be a hideous nuisance. That can’t be further from the truth, but it takes time convincing Alex of this. Patience is key, as is constant reassurance.

“Do you even realize how hot you are?” Michael asks one night. After having just given Alex a blowjob to rival all other blowjobs, Michael knows the latter isn’t in any position to run and hide. It’s the perfect time to lay the compliments on thick. But in response, Alex simply laughs. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re just trying to butter me up for round two,” Alex teases, blatantly attempting to lighten the mood. Probably an attempt to divert Michael’s train of thought, too.

“As if you weren’t already planning to return the favor,” Michael scoffs. Again, Alex laughs; they’re already delving off track. “C’mon. Real talk here, Manes.”

“Fine,” Alex sighs, turning to give Michael his undivided attention.

“I want you to know how much you turn me on,” Michael explains. “ _All_ of you. There’s nothing about you that makes me second guess whatever it is we’re doing.” He gestures between the two of them, one hand settling on Alex’s hip. “You know that, right?”

For a split second, Alex’s reserve crumbles. Michael picks up on the slight panic in Alex’s eyes, the way he tenses under Michael’s touch. Yet as quickly as the facade slips, it’s right back up. Alex tries to remain impassive, simply offering a meek, “Of course.” He clearly doesn’t know what else to say, but Michael doesn’t push him to. Michael makes up for the silence by pressing a few kisses along Alex’s jaw, drawing his attention back to the intimacy of the moment. However, that doesn’t mark the end of Michael’s compliments. If anything, it gives him an incentive to do better. He works twice as hard to slip flattering words into their casual conversations. It goes far beyond Alex’s looks — because there are only so many times you can call someone a literal angel without it getting weird — and focuses more on what he provides to the team. Alex is always selling himself short; far more than Michael ever does.

When Max or Isobel discuss their home planet, Alex is one of the first to chime in with a fact about Earth. He spouts off knowledge of their galaxy that not even Michael is aware of, and Michael’s actual, literal job back on Antar is to brief his soldiers on the workings of Earth’s system. Even here, he’s meant to be the one helping educate Max and Isobel.

“You’re giving me a run for my money, Manes,” Michael remarks. “What happens when these two realize you’re smarter than I am?”

From where he’s going over constellation maps with Max and Isobel, Alex rolls his eyes. “I was in the Air Force, Guerin. Knowing about space comes with the job.”

“But replacing you sounds like a good idea,” Jenna chimes in, flipping through one of Max’s many books. With the way she’s so casually splayed across the couch, Michael almost forgets she’s supposed to be on guard. “I say we take a vote.”

“No one’s voting anyone out,” Max scolds, but there’s hesitation in his voice. “...Yet.”

“It’s not out of the question then,” Kyle says.

Despite being made the butt of the joke, Michael doesn't mind it one bit. It’s all worth the look on Alex’s face — pride mingled with genuine happiness. Michael knows how important it is for Alex to feel respected and valued, so the praise continues. Every chance he gets, Michael touts of Alex's brilliance and skills. When Alex lends a hand with dinner, Michael applauds him for being so helpful and taking some of the pressure off Kyle, who's just as grateful. When Alex helps Michael fix up the van, Michael rewards him with a kiss and teases him for having a way with his hands. The list goes on and on, to the point where Michael never says an ill thing about Alex for a solid week, even as a harmless joke. Truth be told, Michael thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of boosting Alex’s confidence. He likes to believe that Alex is slowly but surely opening up — not just to Michael, but the whole group — because of his praise. He wants Alex to feel loved, above all else, and he’s convinced that Alex truly does. He’s convinced himself that it’ll only be a matter of time before Alex’s heart is so full of love, things will go back to the way they were before.

Then Alex pays him a visit. It’s completely unannounced. Alex doesn’t even bother knocking, instead letting himself right in. It's the middle of the afternoon and Michael is fresh from a nap, so he thinks he might be dreaming. The sunlight sifting through nearby curtains illuminates Alex in a slight glow, so it's not out of the question that Michael's envisioning all of this. But then Alex declares, “You’re overcompensating.” At that point, Michael realizes he's wide awake.

“ _What_?” Michael all but squawks, thoroughly flabbergasted. He immediately sits up in bed, hair in disarray and a bit of drool trickling down his chin. As far as appearances go, Michael isn't very proud of how he currently looks. 

"You're overcompensating," Alex repeats. "With all of the compliments and affection. Why is that?"

Rather than admit defeat, Michael tries to appear unfazed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm not stupid," Alex scoffs, which takes Michael aback. "And you're not subtle, so spill."

Michael considers lying through his teeth, but he has a terrible poker face and Alex has taken to reading him like a book, so he figures honesty is the best policy. 

"I wanted to prove that you can trust me," Michael admits. "It's obvious that we both want more out of each other, but you don't trust me to go that far. There's a part of you that's worried about how I'll react and you're holding back. Am I wrong?"

When Alex begrudgingly shakes his head, Michael continues. "You care so much about what everyone else thinks, but trust me when I say I'm not some judgmental prick looking for a quick fuck. I actually give a shit about you, Alex. Every last part of you. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," Alex confesses. "It's hard for me to believe you'd be so invested in someone you barely even know."

"We've been here for months now," Michael points out. "And how long have we been fooling around?" Alex huffs, but doesn't reply. "Yeah, thought so. I know you better than you think."

After that, it takes a bit of coaxing for Michael to convince Alex to sit down with him. He doesn't know where the conversation can possibly go from here, but he sits and he listens. He lets Alex speak on his own terms, on his own time, without pushing for a conversation. Sure enough, Alex opens up. 

“I haven’t been with anyone since I came home from war,” Alex admits. He looks shameful about it, as if it's something to be embarrassed by. “It’s not easy for me to be that vulnerable with people. It makes you weak. Gives everyone else a reason to go for the low blows.”

“Your dad put that in your head, didn’t he?” Michael accuses.

Alex doesn’t answer, which is all the confirmation Michael needs. He wishes he could kiss away every last one of Alex's insecurities, or remind Alex that he’s always loved his imperfections. Even three years after their forced split, nothing's changed, including his deep-rooted hatred for Jesse Manes. 

"It takes time to unlearn all the crap our parents put in our head," Michael says, "but that doesn't mean it's impossible."

"Are you speaking from experience?" Alex suddenly asks, studying Michael's stoic expression. 

"Maybe," Michael replies. If there's one subject he wants to avoid at all costs, it's anything involving his parents. "This isn't about me, though."

Michael takes one of Alex's hand in his own, eventually bringing himself to meet Alex's gaze. He's had this conversation with Alex once before, only in a different time and place. It'd been easier back then. Now, there's so much to unpack and repair thanks to Alex's father, and Michael can't help but feel at fault. 

"We don't have to get into a therapy session where I pat your back and tell you everything's going to be okay," Michael begins. "We don't have to rehash every shitty childhood memory you're holding onto. All I'm saying is that you can trust me, and that I'm not going to lie to you. Believe it or not, Alex, I care about you. I wouldn't be here trying to convince you otherwise if I didn't. Your leg isn't something to be ashamed about. It's proof that you went through hell and came out stronger because of it. That's something I respect, not something that's going to push me away. That's all I wanted to prove to you."

Once Michael finishes, there's a comfortable silence that settles between them. Michael figures Alex will need some time to process everything, to come to terms with what he's said, but suddenly Alex is leaning forward and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, murmuring, "I believe you. Don't make me regret this."

"I won't," Michael assures. He slides a hand up the nape of Alex's neck, but keeps him at a distance — just so Alex can see the sincerity in his gaze. "Promise."

 

* * *

 

After that, their relationship flourishes in ways Michael didn't know it could. Alex feels a little more certain when sharing Michael's bed, though they have yet to put a label on their relationship. Michael recalls Isobel's advice, reminding himself that there are three whole years to work through any kinks in his plan, and lets Alex take charge. The first time they have sex, it's on Alex's terms and Michael handles him with the utmost care. Well, up until Alex hooks his good leg around Michael's waist, digs his heel into Michael's thigh, and demands that Michael stop holding back. 

"I'm not fragile," Alex reminds Michael. His fingers find their way between them, and Michael's hips buck the moment they wrap around his cock. "Got it?"

"Got it," Michael grunts, pressing down against Alex until he's practically smothering him. The smirk on Alex's face makes it perfectly clear that he's headed in the right direction, and this is how most of their ensuing hookups go. Of course, Michael adds his own special touch, taking things agonizingly slow and sensual when he knows Alex is desperate for something quick and rough. 

Surprisingly, Alex grow bolder as time passes. Though he's far from being open with the others, he doesn't resist private displays of affection. When no one else is around, Michael is able to steal a kiss or two, maybe even tug Alex into an embrace and nestle his face in the crook of Alex's neck. It helps that Alex is tasked with keeping guard from sundown to sunrise, which gives them both the perfect excuse for being up when no one else is. Some days, Michael forgets they're even trying to hide their relationship. He suspects Alex does too, until their coworkers rise and he settles back into his facade. 

In the early hours of one particular morning, Michael has Alex pinned against the kitchen counter. No one else is awake, which means Alex is the one stealing kisses and Michael is running cold hands beneath Alex’s shirt. A few laughs escape Alex as he squirms underneath the chilly touch, but he allows Michael’s hands to roam up his back and around his hips and anywhere else they please. Moments like this transport Michael to the golden days. If he closes his eyes, he can picture the two of them standing in their old apartment; the radio softly cranking out one of Alex's favorite indie songs, all while they sway around their tiny kitchen.

However, the moment is ruined when they hear someone approaching. Michael knows the drill by now. He distances himself from Alex, who's suddenly busying himself with a dirty mug he'd left in the sink, and Michael takes to heating up a conveniently placed frying pan. They barely manage to step back into their perfected routine before Jenna enters the kitchen, greeting them with a formal, “Manes. Guerin.”

“Cameron,” Michael responds, tipping his head in her direction. “You’re up early.”

“Thought I’d let Alex get an extra five minutes of sleep,” Jenna offers with a shrug. “Besides, I know you’d probably be up bugging him while waiting to bug _me_ , so I’m sparing him from the torture.”

“My hero,” Alex chuckles, setting his mug on the dish rack.

“You can both kiss my ass,” Michael retorts, but his grin suggests otherwise. “I’m obviously the coolest person in this house and you’re just jealous.”

As Alex makes his move to leave, he and Jenna exchange a look of disbelief. In unison, they say, “Not a chance, Guerin.”

And with that, Alex is all but rushing out of the kitchen. Michael assumes that’s the end of it, but he catches Jenna leaning back against the island so she can watch him go. When she can no longer see Alex, and they both hear a door quietly shut, Jenna redirects her attention back to Michael. He’s unsettled by the determination in her gaze, but there’s not much he can do. He’s pretty sure that if he tries to run, she’ll just give chase.

“So,” she begins. “You and Manes, huh?” Michael’s eyes widen and he immediately averts his gaze, trying to look anywhere besides Jenna. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

For a split second, Michael panics. No one beyond Isobel and Max should know about his feelings for Alex, and even then, his pseudo-siblings don’t know the extent of their relationship. Getting Jenna or Kyle involved makes everything far too messy and has the potential to scare Alex off. In the midst of his worrisome thought process, Jenna can spot his concern a mile away. Michael’s never been particularly good at his poker face, especially when it comes to Alex.

“Relax,” she laughs, lightly nudging his shoulder. “Between you and me, I’ve wanted to climb Max like a tree. It’s normal when you see the same people every day. I was just curious.”

“Max?” He repeats, because _that’s_ what he should take away from the conversation. Clearly. “I thought you had better taste than that, Cameron.”

“I have four men to choose from and two of them are spoken for,” she explains, throwing him a knowing look. “Valenti’s not half bad, but King Zan cleans up nice. Well, for an alien disguised as a human. Even you have to admit he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Hard pass,” he groans, nose scrunching in distaste. “In case you couldn’t already tell, I have a type and Max sure as hell doesn’t check any of those boxes.”

“Suit yourself. That just means more for me,” she says, smirking. “He strikes me as a stickler for rules and order, though. Y’know, being a king and all. I’d keep your trysts with Manes on the downlow if I were you. If you ask nicely, I might be willing to cover for you two.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” He asks. He doesn’t bother pointing out that she’s right; Max is infamous for abiding by his morals and personal code of conduct.

“Max is going to ask you to install security cameras around the property,” she reveals. “And guess who’ll be in charge of that footage?”

How she already knows this, Michael can’t tell. As part of their security detail, maybe Max has made her privy to more information than he does Alex. That’s a problem in and of itself, but if she is right about the new security cameras, they could use the help. It’s better to give Alex some peace of mind than let Max pry into their personal business. Michael doesn’t need to be grilled for hooking up with Alex so frequently, especially when it interferes with the time Alex is meant to be on guard.

“What’s in it for you?” He questions.

“Cover my dish duties for the rest of the year,” she suggests.

“That’s it?” He asks, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Just two days later, Max sends Michael to collect a shipment of high-tech security cameras from the Antarian Embassy. It takes less than a day for Michael to install them, and he spends the rest of that day teaching Jenna how to man the cameras — per Max’s orders. She doesn’t say ‘I told you so,’ but her cocky demeanor talks plenty.

If only Kyle was just as easy to brush aside or convince, but he’s a completely different story. Michael doesn’t miss the scathing glare Kyle shoots his way every time he gets a little too close to Alex, or how he tries to steal Alex’s attention when Michael’s gotten most of it. There’s no malice there, at least when it comes to Alex, so it leads Michael to believe that Kyle doesn’t trust him specifically. It doesn’t help that he and Alex actually have history, which Alex failed to mention while he and Michael were first dating. Even now, he offers up the bare minimum to explain his tumultuous past with Kyle.

“We used to be best friends,” Alex admits, straddling Michael’s waist. Kyle isn’t someone Michael wants to focus on when Alex is about to ride him, but he figures it’s worth discussing before he forgets. “Back when we were kids, our dads were pretty close too.”

“What happened?” Michael asks. When Alex doesn’t answer, he runs his hands along Alex’s hips, gently massaging the points he knows will send shivers up Alex’s spine. “You guys had a falling out?”

“You could say that,” Alex sighs. He leans down to steal a quick kiss, fingers running along Michael’s chest. “It doesn’t really matter. Kyle’s a different person now and I don’t want to be thinking about him when I’m naked and about to get fucked.”

Hands sliding up the back of Alex’s thighs, Michael’s inclined to agree. He assumes there’ll be plenty of time to get into Alex and Kyle’s relationship some other time, but Alex has a good way of avoiding the topic. By that, Michael means he’s easily swayed by Alex’s mouth on his and becomes putty under Alex’s hands. Why talk about Kyle when Alex is dropping to his knees or pulling Michael into bed? The longer Michael prolongs his inquiries, the less improvement he makes on his relationship with Kyle, who continues holding him in the lowest regard. Michael eventually tells Isobel as much. Not because he’s meant to report about the inner workings of the humans (which he is), but because he doesn’t know how to go about handling the situation (which she does).

“We all need to get out,” Isobel decides, causing Michael to groan in dismay. “Quit being so dramatic. I know Zan wanted to wait a year before going into town, but we need some team bonding. You need to make up with your little human friend.”

“Thanks for the advice, Mom,” he scoffs, “but I don’t think a playdate is going to solve anything.”

As it turns out, that’s not how Isobel feels. Just days after Michael comes to her with his concerns, she announces to the group that they’ll be taking the first of many trips to Roswell’s hotspots. Apparently she and Max have collectively decided on the Wild Pony as their initial destination. It’s somewhere no human would ever expect two Anatarians in disguise to venture, due heavily in part to how ‘local friendly’ it is. With their human forms and identities, along with the actual Roswell locals among their group, the royal siblings are positive it’ll be one of many successful assimilations into human culture.

“Is that a nice way of saying they hate Antarians?” Michael asks. Isobel throws him a glare, prompting Michael to raise his hands in surrender. “Just asking for confirmation, Princess.”

“We came here to learn more about humans, even if that means interacting with the ones who hate us,” Isobel points out, gesturing to the first bullet point of her slideshow. Of course Isobel, of all people, would make a slideshow to ‘educate’ their human employees on the pros of this plan. Still passing as one of them, Michael has no choice but to sit in on the presentation and he’s not too happy about that. “I thought you’d all be eager to get out of the house. Was I wrong?”

“It’s not that,” Kyle speaks up. He shares a less than optimistic look with Alex, which doesn’t sit well with Michael. “It’s just…”

“The locals can be real assholes,” Jenna finishes, as cut and dry as ever. That’s why Michael likes her so much. “You sure you want to open that can of worms?”

“I second that question,” Michael chimes in. “While I was staying in town—” For a whole year, getting to know every last one of Alex’s friends. The Wild Pony had become their hangout spot with the likes of Liz, Maria, and Rosa, who have all long forgotten those times. Just like Alex. “—I almost got into a couple brawls. What if someone picks a fight with us?”

“There’s power in numbers,” Isobel easily replies, “I don’t think any human is stupid enough to start something with a group as big as ours.” When the humans seem less than convinced, she throws her hands up in exasperation. “Zan, could you back me up here?”

From where he’s reading Catcher in the Rye, Max finally pries his eyes away from the book. “Come again?” Isobel glares daggers at her brother, and Michael assumes the ensuing silence means she’s chewing him out through their creepy twin telepathy. “Oh, right — the bar. Vilandra’s explained to me that if we’re going to make amends with the local human population, we need to see where their animosity stems from. The Wild Pony is the perfect place for observing angry humans, isn’t it?”

“When you use that logic,” Jenna says, “it is.”

That seems to settle it. Given the fact that Max and Isobel are in charge of this entire operation, no one has much say in the matter anyway. Save for Alex, who admits to knowing the owners of the bar and agrees to get them in there without any fuss. Yet the moment they all saunter into the bar, hoping to simply find a table and quietly drink amongst themselves, there’s a very loud, “Alex!” that makes everyone in the bar look their way. Before any of them have a chance to react, Alex suddenly has an armful of Rosa Ortecho and nearly topples into Michael from the sheer power of her hug. She immediately follows this up by smacking his shoulder with all the force she can muster, causing Alex to wince.

“You can’t just vanish without a trace and not tell anyone,” she snaps, but there’s no real malice in her voice. She doesn’t even look the least bit angry. “Everyone thought you were dead, _pendejo_. What the hell happened?”

Michael recalls that they’ve all been off the grid for a few months now, though not by choice. It was a requirement that everyone maintain as little contact with the outside world as possible. The only people Michael needs to speak to are Isobel and Max, so it hasn’t been much of a problem on his end. Alex, however, has people who care about him; friends who’ve probably worried themselves sick over his disappearance. No wonder Rosa is so happy to see him.

As she steps back, Rosa finally notices there’s an entire entourage with him. Her demeanor shifts, and suddenly she’s giving every last one of them a stink-eye. Even Kyle and Jenna aren’t free from being scrutinized, despite Rosa knowing them as fellow locals. “What’s with the groupies?”

“It’s a long story,” Alex nervously chuckles. “Listen, could we—”

Before he can finish, Rosa turns and shouts, “Maria, Alex is back!”

It’s not long before Michael spots Maria rushing from the bar and making a beeline toward Alex, which only gives him a moment to brace for the impact. She promptly follows Rosa’s lead by throwing herself at Alex, not caring that it sends him shuffling backwards. This time, Michael has to reach out and steady him.

“I was worried sick,” she scolds, looking otherwise relieved to see her friend. “Do you have any idea how hard it is getting information out of Jesse Manes? Actually, of course you do — but he won’t tell anyone _anything_ and neither are your brothers. I was starting to think something awful happened.”

“Liz is convinced you were abducted by King Zan and taken to Antar for some top secret mission,” Rosa teases, but from what Michael remembers of Liz? There’s a good chance she does, in fact, believe that. How she knows about his job with King Zan is an entirely different story. Michael already senses Isobel and Max tensing behind him. “I’m pretty sure she’ll need to see you in the living flesh before she drops _that_ conspiracy theory.”

“I kept telling her that you probably took the job,” Maria chimes in, “but she thinks something weird is up. You know how Liz gets; she’s got a thing for reading between the lines and trying to look for something that’s not really there.”

“How cute,” Isobel suddenly pipes up, flashing both girls an innocent smile. Knowing Isobel as well as he does, however, Michael can tell she’s internally panicking. “Alex, don’t you think you should introduce us to your friends?”

“We know Kyle and Jenna,” Rosa casually offers. Michael doesn’t miss the discreet roll of her eyes, and he’s beginning to wonder if showing up to the Wild Pony was such a good idea. “But you’re right, some introductions are in order.”

Seven pairs of eyes are suddenly trained on Alex, who is clearly stuck between a rock and a hard place. Rather than leaving Alex to flounder, Michael quickly blurts, “Could I get a beer first?”

Maria and Rosa both give him an unimpressed look, sizing him up for good measure. Isobel slams the tip of her heel into the back of Michael’s ankle, but he refuses to flinch.

“This is Michael,” Alex cautiously announces, equal parts grateful and confused by Michael’s sudden declaration. At least it gives him the confidence to press on. “Since you already know Kyle and Jenna, this is—”

“Isobel Evans,” Isobel cuts in, extending her hand forward. To Michael’s surprise, Rosa boldly reaches out and gives her a firm handshake. “And this is my brother, Max Evans.”

“We’re new to these parts,” Max adds, also extending his hand. This time, Maria takes it. “Alex told us one of you owns the bar?”

“I do,” Maria chirps. She looks quite pleased with herself; Michael recalls how much pride she took in her bar. Still does, apparently. “It’s been in the DeLuca family as long as anyone can remember. Legend has it that this bar’s been around longer than aliens have been crash landing In Roswell.”

When Maria laughs, Max and Isobel force themselves to do the same. Michael can see the panic in their eyes, barely concealed in the face of nothing more than a harmless joke. Now Michael is the one nudging Isobel, trying to convince her to loosen up.

“We’ll need three beers, two shots of tequila, and…” Jenna trails off, glancing at Isobel. “A Cosmopolitan for the lady.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Maria reassures. Michael recognizes the mischievous glint in her eyes, but can’t quite place the source. Surely she’s got something up her sleeve. “Rosa, help them get settled in. And try to be nice, alright?”

“Can’t make any promises,” Rosa counters, flashing Maria a cocky grin. As soon as Maria prances off to fill the order, Rosa redirects her attention back to the group. “The best I can do is seat you as far from Jason and Lindsay as possible. Sounds good?”

“Lead the way,” Isobel answers, eyes bearing into Rosa’s.

It takes two tables being pushed together to fit everyone, and by then Rosa and Isobel are trying to outdo each other, seeing which of them can be the fakest with their pseudo-politeness and vaguely concealed passive aggression. Honestly, Michael’s more amused than anything else. It’s rare that someone has the guts to go toe to toe with Isobel; even Michael dreads getting on her bad side, but Rosa isn’t holding back. She’s asking every possible question under the sun, trying to get to the bottom of this mystery woman. In turn, Isobel sticks to her guns and abides by her perfectly curated cover story. Everyone else takes to focusing on their drinks once Maria arrives, and she isn’t much help beyond serving up their orders. She sits and watches Rosa at work, clearly finding amusement in her friend's constant questioning. 

“I’m just surprised we've never seen you or your brother around the area before,” Rosa says, toying with her personal bottle of whiskey. Her eyes gravitate toward Michael. For a moment, Michael wonders if she still remembers him. Perhaps his parents’ hired help weren’t as thorough as they claimed to be. “Or...what was your name again? Mitchell?”

“Michael,” Isobel corrects before Michael can open his mouth. “You wouldn’t know him either. He’s new to these parts.”

“Can he speak for himself?” Rosa questions, cocking her head slightly. That shuts Isobel right up and gets Michael to smile. “Come on, cowboy. What’s your story?”

“Good luck with that,” Kyle remarks. “He won’t even tell _us_.”

Just to spite Kyle, Michael decides now is the perfect time to become an open book. At least, as open as he’s willing to get while undercover. There’s only so much he can say without causing problems for himself and his siblings, or igniting an argument between himself and Max.

“I pissed off my parents and decided a life on the road was better than a life I have no control over,” Michael explains, nursing his beer as an excuse to avoid their gazes. “Let’s just say arranged marriages aren’t my thing.”

“You can’t just end it there!” Rosa exclaims, looking thoroughly entertained by what he’s just said. However, her attention is soon pulled toward the front of the bar and all thoughts about Michael fly out the window. Before she leaves, though, she makes a point of telling Michael, “When I get back, we’re totally getting into that arranged marriage bullshit. I need details, man!”

Then she’s scurrying off, but not before hooking her arm under Alex’s and dragging him along. “Liz!” Rosa shouts. “Look who’s back!”

At the mention of Alex’s friend, Michael glances up and spots Liz embracing him. Moments later, Maria is rushing to join in on the little reunion and Michael can’t make out what any of them are discussing. Michael distantly recalls the same reunion just three years prior, only the three women were fussing over Alex’s fiance rather than Alex alone.

“Arranged marriage, huh?” Kyle’s voice pulls Michael back down to reality. Isobel and Max are clearly uncomfortable, but Kyle is suddenly interested in that tidbit of information. “Care to elaborate?”

“I was bullshitting her,” Michael plainly replies. “My parents are off living at some beach-side retirement home in Miami. I’m pretty sure they don’t give two shits about who I end up with.”

Kyle looks unconvinced, but suddenly Alex is back beside him and Liz is quickly trying to introduce herself to everyone and there's no time to call Michael out on his bluff. What was meant to be a stress-free night is quickly turning into a trip from hell, what with all of the people now crowding around their table and turning this into some sort of spectacle. Michael has to excuse himself at some point, claiming he needs another beer and convincing Maria to come with him. He can only stomach this act for so long, pretending he has no clue who the Ortechos or Maria are. Once upon a time, they were his friends too. Now? He's no more than an eclectic stranger Alex happens to know. Michael finds that the second beer helps quell his mounting frustrations, and as usual, Maria doesn't pry. Unlike Liz and Rosa, she knows when to let a comfortable silence settle in. Granted, the comfortable silence doesn't last very long. Jenna and Kyle saddle up to the bar, one on either side of Michael, and place their own orders for more liquor. Jenna makes for good company, but Kyle...not so much. 

"I thought you two were getting friendly over there," Michael snorts, glancing at their previous table. Now it's simply Isobel, Rosa, and Alex talking. Liz and Max, for some strange reason, are sitting in another corner of the bar. It's odd, to say the least. Michael grows suspicious of Max, known stickler for rules and the status quo, engaging in such an apparently passionate conversation, all while Isobel is left by herself.  

"I've never seen Max that eager to talk," Jenna comments, downing her third shot of the night. "Is it just me, or is he speaking more tonight than he has the past five months?"

"He likes to keep to himself," Michael scoffs. "Y'know, 'cause he thinks he's better than everyone else."

" _Guerin_ ," Kyle hisses, nudging Michael's side. "He's your employer." He then gestures to Maria, signaling that Michael should mind his mouth around other people.

"I'm not a snitch," Maria quickly says. "Though I've gotta ask: what're a drifter, a doctor, and a deputy doing working for a couple of paranoid Richie Rich types?"

"You'd be surprised by the benefits," Jenna cryptically responds. "Isn't that right, boys?"

Michael tunes out of the conversation before Kyle's able to chime in, preferring to eavesdrop on the conversation between Alex and the girls. For all of her charm and poise, it's no wonder how Isobel suddenly has Rosa enraptured in a very heated conversation about her experiences in New Mexico thus far. She rambles on and on about the climate and environment, how she finds the Spanish-infused architecture so alluring, and Rosa seems to be eating every last word right up. Alex simply watches with a fond expression on his face, and Michael takes a moment to admire how peaceful Alex looks. In a familiar setting with the right crowd, he'll always flourish. Then the moment is unceremoniously ruined by a stranger who seats himself at the table. Both Rosa and Alex look thoroughly upset by the intrusion, but Isobel is none the wiser. 

"What do you want, Wyatt?" Rosa sighs, slumping down in her seat. 

"Who says I want anything from you?" Wyatt scoffs, but his tune quickly changes when he turns to look at Isobel. "I'm here to introduce myself to the pretty lady. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Isobel Evans," she replies, as regal as ever. It's not in her blood to be rude without reason, but Michael can tell Isobel's cordial response is simply giving Wyatt reason to stay at the table. 

"Wyatt Long," he clarifies. From where Isobel's hands sit in her lap, Wyatt goes out of his way to grab one and bring it up to his lips. It's in that moment where Isobel shifts from genuine pleasantries to blatant discomfort, and Michael knows all too well that she doesn't work well under the latter. "You're new around town, aren't you?"

"I am," Isobel agrees, slyly removing her hand from his grasp. "My brother and I—"

"Don't say too much," Rosa warns, glaring directly at Wyatt. "This one's a creep. I wouldn't trust him any further than you can throw him."

"Butt out of this, Ortecho," Wyatt snaps, returning the glare. "This is between me and—"

"You should leave," Alex interrupts, having seen and heard enough. "Isobel isn't interested and Rosa doesn't have to waste her breath arguing with you. Why don't you go bother somebody else?"

"Kiss my ass, Manes," Wyatt bites back. "On second thought, I take that back. You'd probably enjoy it too much."

Instantly, Michael feels his temper rising. It takes Kyle's hand on his shoulder to keep him from launching out of his seat. He whips around to give Kyle a piece of his mind, only to find both Kyle and Jenna listening in on the conversation as well. Even Maria is watching the interaction with uncertainty, probably aiming to break up any arguments that might arise and kick Wyatt to the curb. Most importantly, they're all waiting to see what Alex says next. Michael can't put his finger on it, but he has a sinking suspicion that Alex is close to his breaking point. If Wyatt isn't careful, they might have a brawl on their hands. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alex challenges, as if daring Wyatt to speak so disrespectfully again. To test his patience. To see what Alex is really made of. 

"You know exactly what it means," Wyatt sneers. 

Alex's jaw clenches, but he remains calm and collected. "You've been drinking too much," he points out. "You should call it a night before you do something you'll regret."

"And you should mind your own business," Wyatt says. "What, you want me all to yourself? Is that it, Manes? Hate to break it to you, but I'm not a freak like you."

It's a cruel remark that leaves Michael's blood boiling, but Alex simply scoffs at Wyatt. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm not into washed up rednecks who make a habit of sleeping with their cousins."

The harsh rebuttal is enough to send Wyatt springing up from his seat, and Alex is quick to follow. Maria's rushing to put away her bottles of liquor so she can run to diffuse the situation, but she's not quick enough. Alex and Wyatt are face-to-face, nearly chest-to-chest, because Alex refuses to back down and Wyatt's pride won't let him either. 

“Don’t let the prosthetic fool you,” Alex warns, at which point Michael, Kyle, _and_ Jenna are rushing from their seats. “If you start something, I’m not afraid to finish it.”

The sickening smirk that washes over Wyatt is enough to send a course of fear spiking through Michael, because he doesn’t doubt for one minute that he won’t sucker punch Alex. But the moment Wyatt pulls his arm back, Alex doesn’t give him the chance to act.

“Son of a bitch!” Wyatt shouts, now cradling a bloody nose. It’s courtesy of Alex’s elbow and sharp reflexes, which admittedly makes Michael _very_ proud. “You’re gonna pay for that, you little—”

“Don’t!” Isobel cries, grabbing hold of Wyatt’s arm before he can try throwing another punch, but he simply shoves her back into her seat. She topples over alongside it, and suddenly an uncontrollable rage overcomes Michael. No human is about to treat Isobel that way, least of all a man who is quickly climbing up his shit list.

Rosa seems to agree, because she’s suddenly jumping over their table and onto Wyatt’s back. There’s a flurry of motion, but Michael catches her clawing at his face, yanking on his hair, essentially pulling at anything her fingers can sink into. All he can hear is her screaming obscenities at him, both in Spanish and English, while he shouts for his friends to help.

“Oh my god, Rosa!” Liz exclaims, jumping up from her seat.

Finally turning to face the scene, Max spots Maria helping Isobel off the ground. All bets are off the moment he sees his sister cradling her arm, a look of horror on her face. He’s just as fired up as Michael is, every one of his royal obligations flying out the window. When one of Wyatt’s friends pries Rosa off, Max is there to throw a sucker punch to Wyatt’s jaw, and Michael is just seconds behind with a swift kick to his gut.

“That’s how you treat women, huh?” Michael shouts, kneeing Wyatt in the ribs. With every word, he delivers another hit. “What about war vets? Just ‘cause he’s gay, you think you can disrespect him like that? C’mon, answer me!”

“Michael, stop!” Kyle snaps. He’s trying to pull him away while Jenna handles Max, but Wyatt’s friends quickly descend on them. One takes a cheap shot at Kyle, who immediately lets go of Michael in favor of shoving his attacker onto a nearby table. “Alright, screw it. Guess we’re doing this then.”

Just like that, the entire bar delves into chaos. Chairs fly, bottles break, and Michael is pretty sure he’s the reason why Wyatt gets hurled out a window. Thankfully no one’s sober enough to pay that particular incident any mind, least of all Alex or Kyle. They’re too busy fending off Wyatt’s furious posse, and Michael’s fretting over Alex every step of the way. He knows there’s no need to, given the fact that Alex currently has someone in a headlock, but it’s second nature.

The police can’t come soon enough, but when they do, the fight’s already moved to the parking lot with a considerable crowd gathering to watch. The boys finds themselves in the ‘drunk tank’ thirty minutes later, but none of them are any calmer. They’re stewing inside the tiny cell while their blood pumps and hearts race. Michael’s just glad that Wyatt and his friends are spending their time locked up in jail cells. They have the dual efforts of Maria and Jenna to thank for that. Maria vouched that Wyatt threw the first punch, even as his posse tried to contradict her story. Jenna pulled some strings with Kyle’s mother to make sure the boys were only taken in for disturbing the peace; nothing more, nothing less. It’s a mystery how Rosa was able to evade any repercussions, but Alex in particular seems relieved about that.

“Rosa is simultaneously the bravest and stupidest person I know,” he mutters, slouching against Michael’s shoulder. “I can’t believe she did that without getting caught.”

“I can,” Michael snorts. “She was smart enough to book it once the cops pulled up.”

“Liz probably helped her get away,” Max says, pacing from end to end of their cell. “Isobel, too. She’s the only other person besides Jenna who can keep Isobel safe.” Michael and Alex exchange a puzzled look, seeing as how Max barely knows Liz yet seems so confident in her abilities to protect Isobel.

But Michael’s easily distracted by the split lip Alex sports. The beads of sweat trickling from his temple. The minor scratches across his face. He catches Alex eyeing him up as well, even with Max and Kyle just feet away. There’s concern somewhere in his gaze, yet it takes a backseat to an obvious twinge of mischief, which eventually turns into blatant lust. Despite being slumped down against a wall, Michael can tell they’re still both wired from their fight, from being corralled out of the bar and turned into a spectacle for passersby to see. Alex clearly isn’t thinking about his public image, not after having to defend himself and Isobel and the rest of their friends. Seeing this side of Alex has Michael buzzing with exhilaration and arousal and everything in between, but for what reason, he doesn’t know. This isn’t normal for either of them, but Michael’s willing to ignore that issue for the time being.

The need intensifies once the girls finally come to collect them. Isobel spends the entire ride home lecturing the boys about using their fists rather than their words, especially Max — who is a _king_ , Jenna points out, and would have scandals out the ass if anyone knew that. The entire time they take turns speaking, Alex and Michael can’t stop stealing glances at each other. Even with Kyle awkwardly wedged between them as he inspects their injuries, Michael feels the tension rising. There’s something inexplicably attractive about watching Alex throw himself into a bar brawl; sidestepping the public persona he’s carefully crafted in favor of sticking it to some asshole who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. If the heat in Alex’s eyes is anything to go by, he must be thinking something similarly about Michael. They can’t get home soon enough, but the others are none the wiser.

It’s a miracle that everyone quietly retreats to their rooms. They’re probably eager to forget the night ever happened. Kyle and Max look properly ashamed of their actions now that they’re not fueled by alcohol, but Michael and Alex are still thrumming with energy. Their connection is nearly electric until they discreetly part ways, attempting to keep their rendezvous discreet. No one’s around to see Michael knock on Alex’s door ten minutes later, but he suspects someone’s bound to hear the door forcefully swing open. Alex is far too careless in his pursuit to drag Michael into his bedroom, mouth immediately on Michael’s once they’re just inches apart. There’s none of the tenderness they’ve both grown accustomed to. Adrenaline is coursing through their veins, rendering both of them desperate and needy and sloppy. Once Michael’s managed to shut the door behind him, Alex pushes him back against it, and Michael would be lying if he said Alex taking control isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Alex knows exactly what he wants, knows Michael is willing to give it to him every which way and then some.

“Just so we’re in agreement,” Michael pants, finally allowed to speak now that Alex is dropping to his knees. “That bar fight was a lot hotter than it should’ve been, right?”

“Definitely,” Alex agrees. Sounding that breathless should not be as sexy as Michael finds it, but he does, and he even bucks his hips in response. “I don’t know what it is, I just…”

“Wanna get fucked six ways to Sunday,” Michael finishes. “Yeah, yeah, I get that.”

“What if I wanna fuck _you_ six ways to Sunday?” Alex challenges, all while unfastening Michael’s belt. “Ever thought about that, cowboy?” Before Alex can start unbuttoning Michael’s jeans, he finds himself being hoisted up into Michael’s arms.

“Both,” Michael insists, carrying him to the bed. “Both is good. It’s great. We can take turns, y’know? I’m all about that ‘sharing is caring’ crap.”

Despite his eagerness, Michael is still as careful as ever when setting Alex down, because absolutely nothing comes before Alex’s comfort. Not even the need to plow him into next week or to be plowed right along with him. He helps Alex out of his jeans and prosthetic, tenderly massaging the scarred skin and lingering stitches below his knee, and makes sure Alex is as comfortable as possible. He’s about to ask for confirmation when Alex’s left leg suddenly hooks around his waist, pulling Michael flush against him. Hips slot against hips, one of them now bare while the other is about halfway there. Michael doesn’t even bother kicking his pants off; he lets them hang around his ankles until they slip off on their own accord. He’s too busy peppering kisses across Alex’s chest, making his way up the other’s neck until Alex decides to return the favor.

When Michael reaches between them and takes Alex’s cock in his hand, Alex arches up and quite literally bites back a moan. His teeth dig into Michael’s jugular as a means to an end and okay, Michael had no idea how badly he’d be into that, but he involuntarily thrusts against Alex because now he most definitely is. The friction from the thrust is blissful torture on both their cocks, hard and leaking while pressed between their stomachs. Michael enjoys every breathless moan falling from Alex’s lips and intense shiver that courses up Alex’s spine. Revels in it, even, but he can only go so long with the teasing and toying. This doesn’t feel like their regular hookups, which are so often deliberately slow and sensual; gradual in the sense that they’re in no rush. But right now? Michael feels an unusual sense of urgency spurred on by their little run-in with the law, and he can tell Alex is just as riled up, ready to get on with it rather than deal with the usual foreplay.

Michael decides there’s no more holding back, not even bothering to silence Alex through a kiss as expected. Calloused hands grip Alex’s hips so tightly, there might be bruises come morning. That’s the furthest thought from Michael’s mind, though. He practically slams into Alex, who groans in pure, unadulterated pleasure and instantly takes hold of Michael’s hair. Alex drags Michael down until their lips crash together, sloppy and unpredictably passionate, while nimble fingers tangle themselves in his dirty blonde curls. Michael starts up a steady, powerful rhythm, pressing down against Alex’s body until he can feel Alex gasping against his neck, chest heaving with every thrust. Whenever Alex gives a particularly rough yank of his hair, it only works to spur Michael on even further. He’s practically pounding Alex into the mattress, and Alex looks to be loving every moment of it.

Bed knocking up against the wall, obnoxiously loud groans escaping both of them; it’s not nearly as discreet as they tend to keep it, but Michael can’t find it in himself to care. All that matters is Alex. Making sure he doesn’t go untouched or non-stimulated, constantly pressing rough kisses along his neck and jaw, boldly leaving a few lasting marks. Michael’s hands eventually hook under Alex’s thighs, hoisting his legs even higher and snapping his hips in time with the movement. The position drives his cock deeper into Alex and draws desperate, labored pants out of both men. The muscles of Alex’s thighs tense as he keeps Michael locked between them, heel digging into the back of Michael’s thigh to keep him in place.

There’s no telling how much time has passed, but Michael eventually feels Alex stiffen beneath him. Sees his brows furrow and lips part in a silent cry. Michael feels an all too familiar tension coursing through his abdomen, building up until his body clenches and forces his hips to still. They finish in unison, sharing a climax so blinding and wonderful, Michael’s left breathless and Alex is choking on a gasp. Michael’s vision blurs and he slumps forward on his elbows, taken aback by such an explosive finish that he nearly misses Alex’s attempts at nudging him off. Michael pulls out and rolls onto his back so that they’re laying side by side — spent, exhausted, and breathless. Their chests rise and fall in time with one another, but not a single word is spoken. Alex’s hair is tousled and sticking up every which way, sweat glistening across his temples and chest. Michael figures he doesn’t look half as attractive as Alex does right now, or maybe that’s just his Alex-bias talking. Everything looks ten times better when Alex is the one doing it.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Alex admits, draping an arm over his eyes.

“Neither do I,” Michael says, “but I’m totally down for a round two. Y’know, since you seemed so eager to fuck me. Give me ten minutes and I’ll ride you like a goddamn horse.”

Alex buries his face against Michael’s shoulder and laughs so fiercely, it shakes the bed. It takes just seconds for Michael to join in, and the two find themselves laughing until their cheeks hurt and their stomachs ache. They curl in on one another so Michael’s head is on Alex’s chest and Alex’s arms are around Michael’s neck, basking in the afterglow as they usually do, and the normalcy settles back into place. Or so Michael thinks. When morning comes, Michael can hardly remember the night before. The time spent with Alex becomes a blur, nothing more than a distant memory of pleasure and ecstasy and passion. However, that's the least of his problems. 

"Do you feel...off?" Michael asks, sitting on the edge of Alex's bed. 

"I feel like I'm about to throw up," Alex mutters. "Is that what you mean?"

Michael does, which is the problem. Even after downing two beers and getting caught up in a fight, Michael shouldn't have any issue holding down his liquor. He knows for a fact that Antarians have a better chance at battling the woes of hangovers; Michael's put that theory to the test countless times and come out victorious. The nausea he's experiencing should be nonexistent, but it's all too real. When Michael manages to stagger to his feet moments later, the nausea intensifies. Suddenly Alex begins to groan, holding his head in his hands and tossing in his bed.

That's when the concern finally kicks into gear, and Michael realizes they've found themselves in quite the predicament. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, feel free to leave a comment, gimme some kudos, or privately hug your phone/computer close to your chest and whisper, "Thank you." I promise I'll hear your kind words, sense your gratitude, and smile to myself. You can also find me at my Roswell-exclusive blog, [alexmanes](http://alexmanes.tumblr.com/), if you'd like to talk!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you guys never thought I'd update, huh? Something recently lit a fire under my ass and inspired me to post another chapter. I can't guarantee when I'll update next, but what I can guarantee is that this should be wrapped up by the time season two is ready to air. Anyway, this chapter is a bit of a filler and I'll admit that I'm not _super_ happy with it, but it's necessary for the progression of the plot. It's going to push along some much needed exposition and put us in the perfect spot for some drama. Things will finally come to a head next chapter, which is when shit most definitely hits the fan.

Once he’s certain Alex isn’t about to throw up, Michael decides to pay Max a visit. 

If he could avoid the inevitable, he probably would. Unfortunately, no one else can fix their problem. Sure, he could go to Kyle, but he’s not equipped to tackle the intricacies of alien courtship. Neither is Max, technically, but at least he’s capable of patching them up. However, to say his relationship with Max is strained would be an understatement. Despite being cooped up in the same building for months at a time, they’ve yet to broach the subject of Alex, let alone the fact that Michael’s relationship with Alex is what set all of this into motion. 

Three years ago, Antarians never planned on paying Earth a visit. They much preferred keeping to their own planet, up until Michael ran away from Antar and straight to Earth. Depending on which Antarians you ask, their people consider it to be the biggest scandal to rock their home planet. And once word spread of General Rath making his home on another planet, their people grew curious. Wanted to know more about their distant neighbors a galaxy over — or, in the case of the rebel faction, wanted to oust King Zan while their people were abuzz with talks of intergalactic travels.

So technically all of this — the disguises, the isolated vacation home, and the rebel faction out for their blood — is technically Michael’s fault. Therefore, Michael doesn’t blame Max for his hostility, per se, but sooner or later they’re going to have to cross the Alex-shaped bridge and make amends. Now, Michael supposes, is a better time than ever to turn to his not-quite brother with the mounting problems involving his not quite-fiancé. 

It takes a considerable amount of swaying through the hallway, but Michael eventually finds his way to Max’s office. It’s no surprise that he finds the beloved king toiling away at his desk. Probably writing updates to their parents and the rest of the council, or maybe working on that book of poetry Michael once teased him about relentlessly. Max is the broody type, which makes for cheesy, pseudo-intellectual poems or prose that Michael can hold over his head. At least, that's how it _used_ to go.

Max doesn’t look up from his task at hand, but makes a faint sound in the back of his throat when he hears the door quietly shut behind Michael. 

“I’m surprised,” Max dryly remarks. “I thought you and Alex would be busy right about now.”

Michael has to bite back the shame that unexpectedly courses through him. It's unlike him to feel guilt over his transgressions with Alex, yet here he is, feeling wave after wave of embarrassment crashing over him. “Oh yeah?” is all he manages to get out.

“Vilandra kept me up with a lecture,” Max clarifies. “I could hear you two down the hall.”

Before the conversation can take another awkward turn, Michael is quick to blurt, “About that. We, uh, need to talk.”

Max isn't making this any easier. He simply counters with, "About...?”

Michael rolls his eyes, but knows this behavior is to be expected. Their conversations are rarely anything other than tense and Max has a penchant for making every discussion feel like Michael's pulling teeth.

“The bar fight,” Michael says, despite that much being obvious. “Everything that happened afterwards.” He struggles to get to the point, suddenly far more nervous than he should be. “Something came up and I need your help.”

Without giving Max a chance to respond, Michael makes himself at home. He settles in an armchair backdropped by Max’s expansive library, filled with enough books to keep him preoccupied for the next three years. That’s just the type of person he is, much to Michael’s disdain. Where Michael willingly bends the rules for some fun, Max loves abiding by his moral code. His idea of a good time is reading Russian moralistic literature. Up until he met Alex, Michael’s form of entertainment was causing trouble wherever he went. 

“Kyle told me all the wounds were superficial,” Max answers, brows furrowed in confusion.  

“Most of them are,” Michael replies, “but I think Alex and I are going through something alien-related.” Max’s expression suddenly sours and Michael scrambles to remedy the situation. “Trust me, if I thought this would go away in a couple days — hell, even in a couple _weeks_ , I wouldn’t be here. As it stands, it’s _not_ going away and I’m pretty sure it’s about to get a whole lot worse.”

For a few tense moments, Max doesn’t say anything. Michael’s forced to sit there, stewing in his own nerves and feeling Alex’s nausea three doors down, while waiting for Max’s response. He has half a mind to snap at him when Max finally sighs, sets his pen down, and directs his full attention toward Michael.

"I like rules,” Max says. "A clear line between right and wrong. You know that, Rath."

"Why do I feel like you're about to lecture me?" Michael sighs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Max has a flare for the dramatics and a love for speeches no one wants to hear, least of all Michael. Not when he's literally worrying himself sick over Alex.

"You know I like rules," Max continues, "and you know that what you’re doing with Alex toes the line."  
  
“Does it?” Michael sneers. "Sorry, didn't realize you were King of Morals too. Please, tell me what I'm doing wrong. What else should I do besides dedicating my entire life toward you, Your Highness?"  
  
“I’m not going to sit here and baby you like Vilandra does,” Max says, crossing his arms. Michael feels like a child being scolded by a parent, which further irks him. “You’re being selfish. Plain and simple.”  
  
“Selfish?” Michael repeats, eyes now ablaze with anger. “You’re calling me _selfish_?"

"We have an obligation to our people," Max insists. "The moment we were born, we lost the luxury of choice."

Michael laughs, because it's all he can do to keep himself from losing his temper.  "Do you hear yourself right now?"

"Do you?" Max snaps. "Because it doesn't sound like you're listening to what I have to say."

"I'm not here for a lecture," Michael seethes through clenched teeth. "I'm here for your help."

"This is my way of helping you," Max states. "Because what happened last night can't happen again. What you're trying to recreate can't happen again. Think of someone other than yourself for once—"

"Everything I’ve ever done has been for you or Vilandra or our people!” Michael suddenly shouts. 

He springs up from his chair and strides toward Max's desk, slamming his hands against the wooden top before Max has a chance to react.

"When do I get a chance to be selfish, Zan? Hm?" Michael hisses. "All my life, I've never done anything for myself. And when I finally did, didn't I go crawling back to Antar when you told me to? Didn't I give up the life I could've had on Earth with Alex? Didn't I go back to being miserable for _your_ sake?"

Max opens his mouth to speak, visibly angry at Michael's outburst, but Michael doesn't give him a chance to respond. With a sudden lurch forward, he's spewing the contents of his stomach across Max's desk. 

In the bathroom down the hall, Alex follows suit. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Eat this."

Alex blearily glances down at the plate of toast sitting before him. It's soon joined by a tall glass of water, which is followed by a concerned Kyle leaning into Alex's line of sight. Though Alex appreciates the gesture, he still finds himself leaning away from Kyle's worried gaze.

"Thanks," Alex mutters. As he reaches for a piece of toast, he feels an earth-shattering pain ripple through his temples. For a moment, he worries he might black out from the mounting pressure, but Kyle soon slips a few painkillers into his hand and guides shaking fingers up to Alex's mouth.

"I never pegged you as a lightweight, Manes," Kyle weakly jokes, but it earns him a very pointed glare from Alex. "Sorry. Too soon?"

Now isn't the time for jokes. Not while Alex is facing his worst hangover to date and his body is recovering from his sexcapades with Michael. He can barely recall what happened, is only dimly aware that he'd been giving and receiving the night before without a care in the world. He thought their visit to the drunk tank had sobered him up pretty well, but a morning spent hunched over a toilet rendered the point mute. Now he's got sore limbs on top of a churning stomach and suspects getting up to some fun with Michael turned his own body against him. Just his luck. 

"Something tells me you'll be out of commission today," Jenna remarks, seated across from her coworkers. "I've got surveillance covered. Not like we've gotta worry about Wyatt's posse rolling up on us, right?"

"I sure hope so."

Alex doesn't bother looking up when Jenna and Kyle do. He snags a slice of toast off his plate and holds it behind his head without needing to confirm with Michael, who swipes the offering before taking a seat beside Alex. They move in tandem shortly after; Alex slides the water toward Michael while Michael hands back the half-eaten slice. Alex doesn't realize what he's doing until Jenna and Kyle are eyeing him as if he's grown a third head.

"What?" Alex asks through the half-mouthful of toast. 

"Nothing," the two respond in unison, but Alex doesn't miss the curious look they share.

However, he's too distracted by Michael's presence to pay them much mind. Considering their previous attempts at keeping things discreet, he's surprised to feel Michael's body pressed flush against his own. Normally, he'd be rushing to push him away and make up an excuse for their closeness. His company is comforting though — therapeutic, almost — and Alex swears he can feel his grogginess and nausea fade away. Even if it's nothing more than wishful thinking, he doesn't bother batting Michael away. 

"This seems like a pretty aggressive hangover," Kyle pipes up, "but should pass by the end of the day. Try to take it easy until then."

That's the plan, but Alex's plans rarely work out as intended.

Even when he's holed himself up in his room, determined to combat the headache that lingers, he's interrupted by the one person sharing in his misfortune. Alex shouldn't feel such a strong pull toward Michael, but he does. Any logic he possesses is thrown right out the window at the sight of those curls and that damn smile, no matter how weak it may be. Through the mild discomfort, Alex feels more than inclined to let Michael into his room. So he does, even though everyone is wide awake and could easily catch them slipping up. Under normal circumstances, Alex would be panicking. He'd work himself up while fretting over what their employers would think or how their coworkers would react. He'd be insisting that they need a break. Should have their own space after that disastrous night at the Wild Pony. Maybe Alex is too jumpy and Michael too quick to throw punches at anyone who looks at him the wrong way. Maybe they're getting a little too attached when they've barely begun exploring this relationship of theirs. 

But soon Michael's fingertips are rubbing circles into Alex's shoulder blades, and he's whispering something soft and assuring in his ear, and Alex feels far more comfortable in that single moment that he's ever felt in the last two years. Alex is practically putty in Michael's hands once the drowsiness overtakes him, and he dozes off as Michael telepathically guides his body back to bed. 

 

 

* * *

  

 

While Alex is fast asleep, Michael resists the urge to join him. Instead, he spends a few hours intently watching the airman. He keeps tab on the rising of his chest and the subsequent falling, of the steady beating of his heart. He tends to his prosthetic before safely removing it, then gently massages Alex's amputation to ease any discomfort he might wake up to. It's a wonder that Alex remains in such a deep slumber, but Michael figures his body is desperate for the rest.

Once certain Alex is fine, Michael spends the rest of the morning and subsequent afternoon in a full-blown panic. No thanks to Max giving him the cold shoulder, of course. After assuring Michael he'd look into the predicament, he slammed his office door right in Michael's face. He's been holed up ever since. Michael can't blame him, and he knows Max will come to him when he's finally ready to speak or has some information, but that leaves Michael to navigate the rocky terrain of this unspoken, invisible bond.

From what he's gathered, none of this is normal. Michael has always felt a pull toward Alex, but nothing of this caliber. If Michael even _thinks_ about leaving Alex to go to his own room, he feels a knot form in the pit of his stomach and he can feel guilt seeping through the cracks of his mind. It's as if pulling himself from Alex would physically and mentally pain him, which is why he remains dutifully at the foot of Alex's bed.

Eventually, his eyelids droop and shoulders sag with the need for sleep, as if his body is expected to abide by Alex's internal clock. It refuses to acknowledge that Michael has already gotten plenty of sleep, that he doesn't need another round of rest, and he's tempted to curl up beside Alex.  When Michael is on the cusp of giving into temptation, there's a knock at the door. Exhaustion gives way to solace as Max enters, followed closely by Isobel. He knows they've already found a solution; wouldn't expect anything less from the quick-witted twins. Unfortunately, they don't bring the answers he wanted nor expected.

"This happens when two soulmates are put in a dangerous situation," Max explains to a dumbfounded Michael. "The closest thing to this would be the fight or flight mode in humans, except you two decided to fight for each other then...do _other_ things."

Behind them, Isobel ensures Alex remains fast asleep and none the wiser to their presence. The last thing they need is the human waking up mid-healing session, and Michael's pretty sure he would die from mortification if Alex bore witness to this conversation. 

"That bar fight triggered something instinctual in the both of you," Max continues. "From what I could find, there hasn't been a lot of research done. Soulmates are rare for our people and nonexistent on Earth, but you must be influencing his biology somehow. Something's been laying dormant in you two during your separation and now that you're back together, it's hitting full force."

"You'll need to keep your distance," Isobel adds, but she has the decency to look guilty. Max, on the other hand, seems awfully chipper about the prospect. "Not completely, but for a few days at least. Until both of your bodies realize the danger is long gone."

"The human body can't withstand the amount of damage ours can," Max says, far from what Michael wants to hear. "You're experiencing every physical and mental reaction to his hangover, but it goes both ways. The reason why Alex is so sick is because—"

"Of me," Michael finishes. He swallows back the lump in his throat. "The Antarian genes are amplifying all the pain he feels, aren't they?"

Max nods in agreement. "Vilandra is right. You need to give him his space."

"Then what?" Michael counters. "What happens the next time we're put in a dangerous situation?"

"There won't _be_ a next time," Max commands, using the authoritative, kingly voice Michael has come to detest over the years. He means business, but Michael isn't about to take this lying down. Not when his future with Alex is on the line and some inexplicable force puts them both at risk. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Michael snaps.

"It means," Max says with a very stern look, "that you've had your chance to say goodbye. The only reason I agreed to put Alex on this team is so you could get closure, not so you could rehash old feelings. This entire mission is bigger than any of us, Rath. Our people are counting on us to build peace between our worlds and we still have a rebel faction out for blood. There are more important issues at hand than a relationship Alex doesn't even remember."

Michael has half a mind to lash out. To kick and scream and pitch the fits he's infamous for back on Antar. Max has another thing coming if he expects Michael to give up the love of his life for a second time, forced to return to Antar as his heart breaks every step of the way.

Unfortunately, Max beats him to the one-punch knockout. He opens his mouth before Michael even has a chance to collect his thoughts and says, "Kivar could always come back for him. You know that. I know that. If Alex had his memories back, he would too."

The events that unfolded two years ago are not memories Michael looks upon fondly. They're equal parts horrific and traumatizing, more so because Michael vividly remembers the fear that gripped him upon receiving the threats against Alex's life. Even now, hes plagued by thoughts of Alex dying at the hands of Kivar for the sake of hurting the royals. To hurt Alex would hurt Michael, and to hurt Michael would send a ripple through the royal family and the noble class. It's a harsh truth he's tried to deny during his reconnection with Alex, assured by the frantic manhunt to quell Kivar's bloodthirsty faction. He'd assumed their parents would put a stop to Kivar sooner or later, but with no signs of Kivar on Antar _or_ Earth, Michael knows he has to consider worst case scenarios. Knows it might be best to let Alex slip away before Kivar catches wind of his resurgence in Michael's life. 

"We can talk about this later," Isobel implores. Michael knows she's trying to buy him time; wants to let him hold out hope before his world comes crashing back down. She's always entertained his lovesick ideas of grandeur, of sweeping Alex back off his feet and continuing right where they left off. 

When the boys fall silent, Isobel gives Michael a sympathetic look before glaring daggers at her brother. For once, Max has the decency to drop the issue. He instead lets out a deep sigh, runs his palm across his face, and makes his way toward Alex's sleeping form. Michael keeps his distance, though. Watches from a few feet away as Max absorbs whatever Antarian influence had seeped into Alex. He cleanses Alex of any pain or lingering illness, putting his body at ease for the time being. 

Michael realizes this is a temporary solution to a much bigger problem. He can only go on like this for so long, trying to relive his glory days and rekindle that spark he shared with Alex. If the price of their relationship is Alex's life, he knows he has to let him go.

 _For his own good_ , Michael silently reasons. _It's the only way_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As the summer gives way to autumn, desert nights get colder. Alex attempts to spend those nights curled up by Michael’s side. He comes up with excuse after excuse to sneak into his room. Some nights, he's using him as a shield against the elements. Other nights, he claims the AC in his room is broken. Yet no matter the excuse, Michael finds a reason to push him away. Either he's under the weather or claims his snoring will keep Alex up or mentions someone is catching onto their charade. 

The night of the Wild Pony brawl was the last time they shared the same bed. Nowadays, Michael keeps most of their communication short and succinct. If anyone else notices, they keep out of his business and mind their own. Alex isn't sure he could handle someone pointing out the obvious rift. He's one second away from snapping apart at the seams, but part of him knows he should have expected this. Sure, their whirlwind romance — if you could call it that — was epic, as was the sex. Alex can't deny the emotional connection felt unlike anything he's ever experience before. Michael was the first person to look past his baggage and trauma to focus on who Alex is as a person. Yet they never put a label on their supposed relationship, keeping it to casual sex and the occasionally deep conversation. If Michael is hoping to find something stable when all of this is said and done, Alex can see why he'd put some distance between them. 

However, that does little to soothe Alex's bruised ego and broken heart. Keeps himself as guarded as Michael does. Suddenly finds himself sticking closer to Jenna and giving Kyle a chance at building back their friendship. All while maintaining his duties and keeping vigilant watch over his clients, lest he slip up and get himself fired. They already have more than enough reason to fire him; word of his relationship with Michael could spell disaster for the both of them, as far as he's concerned. So when Max and Isobel are around, he's even more callous toward Michael. Not nearly as amicable or talkative, but still pleasant enough.

Despite the incident at the Wild Pony, Isobel and Max both think it’s a good idea to head back into town. According to them, they can’t let their human reputations slip just because of one drunken night out. They limit everyone to two drinks per trip into Roswell, but Alex passes on the entire affair entirely. Kyle promises to relay word to their friends that Alex is doing just fine and Jenna swears she'll sneak a bottle of Jack Daniels home with her. Max and Michael are tight-lipped as usual, but Isobel surprises him. As her brother and the rest of the group heads out, she settles down beside Alex on the living room couch. 

"Looks like it's just you and me tonight," she remarks, flashing him one of her dazzling smiles. Even in a pair of sweats and a baggy sweatshirt, she's every bit as regal and royal as he'd expect. However, that very outfit has him do a double-take. 

"You're not going with them?" He asks, glancing at the headlights now peeking through the blinds. 

"I'm playing hard to get with Rosa," she admits. Alex's eyes widen as he turns back to look at her, and now she's sporting a devilish little grin. "What? She's cute, but I have a reputation to uphold. A princess needs to leave her adoring public wanting more."

"Wait, wait, wait — did I hear you right?" He questions. "Since when have you two been a thing? And why are you telling me this?"

"For starters," she begins, "I know you're not about to run to my brother and rat me out. I've been watching you, Alexander. You know how to keep a secret when you need to."

There's a knowing look in her eyes. It's almost challenging, as if she's goading him into a confession. If she's attempting to get him to open up about Michael, she'll be sorely disappointed. 

When he doesn't offer up a reaction, she continues. "I've been texting her nonstop since that night at the Wild Pony. She's taught me a lot about Earth culture, you know. It's why I'm so much better at being human than Zan, which is also why I'm letting him handle this trip solo. He needs to stop relying on me to get through every interaction. And between you and me? It's about time he loosens up. A couple drinks will do him some good."

"Wow," is all he manages to say. "That is...not what I was expecting."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she practically purrs. When she suddenly places a hand against his shoulder, he tenses up. "I've done my research, Alexander. I know that Earth is different than my home planet. Your people, they — how do I put this? They're not as open as mine."

Alex stares at her in bewilderment. "I'm not following."

Isobel huffs, as if the intent behind her words is obvious. "On Anatar, no one would think twice about their princess being with another woman. On Earth, it's not so simple. I can tell that this is something you worry about."

"With all due respect," he promptly cuts in, "I don't think you know anything about me."

"You'd be surprised," she counters, lips pursed in thought. "I know a lot more than you think, including your relationship with Michael."

Alex's eyes widen and every worst case scenario courses through his mind. This could be her way of letting him down gently, carefully firing him as to not hurt his feelings. She could be trying to meddle in their business and convince him to steer clear of Michael. Maybe this is Isobel's way of warning him before her brother gets involved.

Despite his growing concerns, he remains calm and collected. Even as she stares him down, his expression remains neutral.

"Okay, fine," she eventually relents. "I don't know _everything_ , but I know enough. There's a mutual attraction, right?"

Against his better judgement, Alex nods.

"Good. We're getting somewhere," she hums. "What I'm trying to say is that you don't have to hide how you feel. Once you two work through your problems, don't worry about anyone else on the team. I can handle Zan and his temper. You obviously know how to handle Michael. As for Valenti and Cameron...well, they won't be a problem either."

Surely there's a catch here. Isobel must have a hidden agenda of some kind. Maybe she'll ask that he put in a good word with Rosa, or maybe she'll have him do a few extra chores around the house. Yet as he waits for the other shoe to drop, it doesn't. Apparently, there aren't any strings attached to this little spiel of hers.

"Why are you telling me all this?" He asks, cocking his head. 

"Because I like you," she promptly responds. "Let's just say I'm good at reading people. It's a hidden talent of mine."

"I'm sure you're a woman of many talents," he muses, which earns him a pat on his cheek. 

"And that's why you're my favorite," she teases. "Now if you don't mind, I'm prepared to sit here all night and binge watch America's Next Top Model."

After that, he and Isobel delve into a comfortable silence. He gives her total control of the television and she sticks to her word, managing to locate season upon season of her preferred show within the DVR. Though the conversation was short-lived, Alex feels an uneasy weight lifting off his shoulders in her presence. Despite things with Michael being nowhere close to normal, at least he'll have an ally on his hands if their relationship blossoms back up. And if he plays his cards right, maybe he and Isobel can develop their own tentative friendship. 

One hour turns into two and two turns into four. Amid all of the episodes, Alex finds himself dozing in and out of consciousness. It isn't until the front door slams shut that he completely jolts awake, now painfully aware of the rowdy, rambunctious group returning from their night on the town.

Max is far more lively than usual and has to be held up by Michael, who looks equally as buzzed but not quite as pleasant. They're both loudly conversing about how much fun Max had at the Wild Pony and how Michael should open up more, though it's clearly a one-sided conversation on Max's part. Kyle and Jenna aren't far behind the two. While Jenna looks satisfied with her night, Kyle is just as sour as Michael, which promptly sets off a warning bell in Alex's head. 

"You're still up?" Jenna questions, saddling up to the couch with a beer in hand. 

"Hadn't planned on it," Alex sighs, "but I guess there's no point sleeping now."

"Enjoy your night while you can." With a wink, Jenna slides the beer into his palm. "Tomorrow we'll be stuck hearing all about Max's."

With that said, she's gone. It leaves a less than jazzed Kyle standing around as Alex stumbles to his feet, wincing as he leans a little too much weight on his prosthetic. As he makes a move toward the kitchen, he's promptly stopped by Kyle's hand.

"We need to talk," Kyle urges, which is probably the last thing Alex wants right now. Though they've gotten along fine so far, the mending of their friendship is slow-going. Alex doesn't think they've reached the stage where Kyle can suddenly give him late night lectures, which he's almost certain this is bound to become.

"My beer's going to get warm," Alex argues, only for Kyle to promptly take the bottle out of his hand. He sets it down on the island separating the living room from the kitchen and gives Alex a look he hasn't seen since they were kids. That look was strictly reserved for when Kyle was brutally honest — usually at Alex's expense.

"Something tells me I'm not going to like what you're about to say," Alex quips, lips pursing in annoyance. 

“I don’t trust Guerin,” Kyle blurts. “Actually, scratch that. I don’t trust Guerin anywhere near _you_.”

Any comfort that came from Isobel's talk flies right out the window. Heart racing, he does his best to feign ignorance.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alex insists. 

Determined, Kyle elaborates. “Come on, Alex, I’m not an idiot. I know something’s going on.”

“Which means _what_ , exactly?” Alex questions, his defenses kicking into gear. Whatever Kyle is getting at, it’s definitely not going to be good. There’s already a sense of dread looming overhead, threatening to suffocate Alex if the conversation heads south. 

“I know you two are involved...sexually,” Kyle says, which is when that Alex decides he is _definitely_ not ready for a conversation like this. Unfortunately, Kyle moves to block the nearest exit and immediately puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder, keeping him in place. “Your sexuality isn’t what I have a problem with. You know that. I’m not that kind of person anymore and haven't been since high school.”

“My sex life isn’t any of your business,” Alex snaps, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. “What happens between me and—”

“I think Guerin’s using you,” Kyle blurts. He takes a moment to glance around the room, making sure no one else is around to listen, then continues. “We’ve known each other what, twenty years? You’ve always had a good heart, Alex, and you deserve someone who’s going to treat you right. Guerin’s only interested in himself. I mean, he’s all over you one minute, then suddenly he won't touch you with a ten foot pole? After he got what he wanted, he completely ditched you!”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Alex says, "but Guerin's not the only one at fault here.” 

Kyle suddenly pulls back from Alex, blinking in confusion. "Wait, what?”

“I don't know what I was expecting,” Alex quietly admits. “I kept him at a distance for a while. We never bothered to put a label on whatever it is we were doing. So as painful as it is to admit, I'm not surprised. I can be as upset as I want, but Guerin didn't owe me anything."

An awkward silence falls between them, and it’s clear that the cogs in Kyle’s head are taking their sweet time turning. It’s only when Alex makes a move toward the hall that Kyle is suddenly pulled from his stupor, moving to stop Alex before he can leave.

“Hey,” Kyle quietly murmurs, giving Alex’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry for prying. I’m just worried about you. No matter what happened between you two, it doesn’t give Guerin an excuse to run around with other people.”

Alex’s heart takes an immediate dive, then begins to beat so fiercely it feels as if it’s about to jump right out of his throat. A part of Alex always knew Michael might find someone who could be everything Alex isn’t. Someone who isn’t afraid of being public about their relationship, or doesn’t have a decade’s worth of baggage to square away, or doesn’t still carry the scars of a war long since ended. He just never expected it to happen so soon.

Once he regains his voice, Alex asks, “What are you talking about?” 

“Yeah, Valenti,” comes a voice from the hallway, startling them both. “What _are_ you talking about?”

Alex realizes Michael has been watching them this entire time — arms crossed firmly over his chest, a stoic expression gracing his features, and hip cocked out against the wall. He looks comfortable enough to have been standing there for most of the conversation, which causes Alex to divert his gaze elsewhere. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kyle insists, not the least bit fazed. “Tonight at the Wild Pony — you’re just gonna act like it never happened?”

Michael appears unperturbed, even going as far as laughing at the accusation. “Guess Max wasn’t the only one knocking back too many drinks. Your memory’s clouded, Valenti. Just like your judgement.” 

“So you _weren’t_ all over the bouncer?” Kyle counters. “Because it looked to me like you two were getting pretty friendly. Don’t you think Alex has the right to know about that?”

“Am I not allowed to talk to other people?” Michael snorts. “Excuse me for not wanting to be the fourth wheel while you and Max drooled over Liz.” When Kyle immediately stiffens up, a spiteful grin spreads across Michael’s face. “Oh, did I hit a soft spot there?”

“Liz as in _our_ Liz?” Alex questions, now turning to confront Kyle. “Did you two—”

“No, they didn’t,” Michael responds before Kyle can. “She spent the whole night with Max and told Valenti to scram when he tried butting in.” 

“Don’t turn this around on me,” Kyle snaps, pointing an accusing finger at Michael. “Max knows that once he’s gotten all the information he needs, he’s going to up and leave Roswell. Where does Liz fit into his life then, huh? Don’t even get me started on the fact that he’s keeping her in the dark about _everything_.”

“God, spare me the lecture,” Michael scoffs. “You’re paid to be his doctor. Know when to stay in your lane.”

As soon as the words leave Michael’s mouth, Kyle looks ready for a fight. This leaves Alex with no choice but to put himself between the two, stopping Kyle from lunging at Michael and escalating an already messy situation. 

“That’s enough,” Alex commands. Michael instigates the situation further as he moves toward Kyle, forcing Alex to put a hand on his chest and shove him back. “Guerin, quit it before I call Cameron to reel you in.”

Through sheer coincidence, that's the exact moment Jenna comes barreling down the hallway and past the three bickering men. For some reason, she's far more concerned with double-checking the locks and peering through the blinds than paying them much mind. All three of them stare at her in confusion, momentarily distracted from their own minor disagreement. 

"If you boys are finished with your dick measuring contest," she scoffs, "we have a problem on our hands."

"This doesn't concern—" Michael begins, but Jenna quickly raises a hand to silence him.

"There was an unmarked, military-grade vehicle sitting in our backyard while we were gone," she snaps. "Security footage shows the driver exiting the car and scouting the area before taking off. If that wasn't bad enough, I'm pretty sure that same vehicle is on its way back with a few of his buddies. So excuse me if I interrupted your little fight, boys, but we've got bigger fish to fry."

Alex doesn't waste a single moment. He takes off down the hall, completely ignoring Kyle and Michael in favor of rushing to the security room. If they're about to be bombarded by unwelcome guests, he has to know what they're dealing with here. Every monitor is lit up with the same feed: the roof cam. It has a perfect view of every direction leading up to the estate and is meant to alert them of incoming visitors, and it seems to have done its job.

Despite the darkness, Alex can vaguely make out the make and model of the vehicle tailed by two civilian trucks. He knows that very vehicle well, considering he drove one just like it during his Air Force days. There are only a handful of locals who have access to those vehicles, let alone the clearance to drive one. Though he can't make out the plates or the driver, Alex already knows _exactly_ who is sitting behind the wheel: Jesse Manes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this fic, feel free to drop a kudos or comment, but only if that's what you're into. If you prefer other methods, you can privately hug your phone/computer close to your chest and whisper, "Thank you." I promise I'll hear your kind words, sense your gratitude, and smile to myself. Find me at [alexmanes](https://alexmanes.tumblr.com) if you ever want to discuss Malex!


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